Feel the Earth Move
by Nascent Narrator
Summary: It has been months since the events of Puerto Rico and Skye is still unable to accept or control her new powers. Who else can she possibly turn to for comfort when everyone around her looks at her with fear? Set after the mid-season finale - "What They Become".
1. Chapter 1

Maybe it was her newfound powers that made her more acutely aware of it. The fear. They were all afraid of her now. She could see it in their eyes and practically sensed it radiating off them in waves. The levity was sucked out of the room whenever she entered, only to be replaced by an awkward silence. The forced smiles, the rigid body language, the hesitation to engage in conversation ...

They were all scared of what she had become. Of what she could do. Of the mayhem she could unleash. How she could bring down the entire building with a mere wave of her hands, crushing them under the debris.

Her transformation was frightening. Her seismic manipulation was substantial from the very beginning and had only increased with time. Her power manifested itself in the most brutal of ways and was linked directly to her emotional state. The entire base shook when she had nightmares, anything unsecured to the walls would come crashing to the floor – supplies,weapons, books, dishes ...

She felt no closer to taming it. Her inability to control it was frustrating – and catastrophic; she had tried everything – meditation, yoga, hypnosis, sedation ... nothing worked.

To add to her distress, her guilt about Trip's demise continued to plague her. The grief was unbearable. It was her fault that he died - he had followed her into the temple to save her and what did he get for his heroism? An abomination. She had transformed into an abomination.

Her rebirth came at the cost of his life - a monstrous phoenix rising up from his ashes. Her last image of him, of his petrified body on the ground next to her - the black empty shells where his eyes were, coupled with an eerily calm expression frozen on his face before he crumbled to dust - was seared into her memory, burned into her very soul, and haunted her dreams.

_Oh Trip ... I'm so sorry._

She could find no solace anywhere. Her teammates no longer felt like family. The close bond she felt with all of them was destroyed, buried under the rubble of the temple along with the ghost of who she used to be. She gained the power to move the earth but lost the ability to connect with her peers, the very thing that kept her grounded. She had never felt so alone. The isolation she felt was sudden and acute - it was worse than she had ever experienced even as a child being bounced from from foster home to foster home or the time she spent living in solitude in her van before SHIELD had taken her in.

Her father had called it a 'gift'. She knew better. It was a curse that caused nothing but pain and devastation. What could her 'gift' offer to the world other than rubble and debris in her wake? Hers was a power not of healing or creating, strength or speed – it was one that could only be used for chaos and carnage. And one that always resulted in a massive clean-up bill.

In her desperation she had almost reached out to Raina but thought better of it. She recalled the aftermath of their transformation - Raina was standing across from her and she had witnessed with horror as she emerged from her stone cocoon. She had turned into something grotesque – a demonic feline creature with glowing amber eyes brimming with menace, a monstrosity birthed from the depths of hell. She had uttered a primal howl as she looked down at her claw-like hands. Giving Skye one last anguished look, she had she turned and fled from the catacombs before the walls had started to come down.

No. It was definitely not an option to track down Raina.

Fearing she would go mad with her burden, she had gone against Coulson's pleas and sought out her father. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Nobody understood. And they could never completely accept her - the fear would always be there. She traced his whereabouts to a makeshift clinic in a dingy basement, much like the one where she had first learned of his presence, all that time ago.

"Daisy." He smiled his lopsided grin. "My prodigal daughter returns to me at last. I knew you'd be back."

She was still unaccustomed to her birth name but she hadn't bothered correcting him. She had searched his eyes but found no trace of fear. That was all she needed from him – acceptance. Then she had broken down in his arms, her body wracked with sobs. So many months of trying to stay strong and not letting anyone find out how terrified she was had taken its toll. She wept as he stroked her hair and hummed the same haunting tune her mother sang to her as a baby.

They spoke of being outsiders, never being truly accepted by 'normal' people. She told him of her frustration at her inability to manage her growing power and the danger it caused. Her power was immense. It could flatten cities, bring skyscrapers crashing to the ground, make enemies fall to their knees in submission. Yet ironically she had never felt so powerless in her life, so out of control. He listened without judgement, nodding silently in response.

She was glad she found him. He hadn't offered much in way of advice but it was enough that he understood. She felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"I have to go back now, Cal." She was still uncomfortable addressing him as 'Dad'. "But I'll be in touch."

"The young man ... Ward. Have you seen him since you shot him?" The doctor asked her abruptly, as she made her way to the door.

She looked at him in surprise. "How did you know ..?"

"I found him stumbling out of the building, with that woman with the scarred face." He continued, giving her a knowing look. "He told me what happened. I tended to his wounds. I thought it was the least I could do after he helped me find you."

"No, I haven't seen him since." Skye said quietly.

"You know, he and I are probably the only people in this world who can truly understand you." He said slowly, taking in her reaction. "I didn't get to spend too much time with him but I could tell what he was. He may be flawed but he wouldn't fear you. He's your counterpart. You need each other."

She didn't have the strength to argue. She had left him shortly afterwards and returned to the base. She felt eerily calm, an emotion she had not felt since her transformation. Cal's words about Ward echoed in her head for the remainder of the day.

_Could he be right? Is he what I need?  
><em>

That night would prove to be the worst since Puerto Rico. During another fitful sleep, she had brought down the entire training room with her nightmarish visions. She had awoken to the sound of screaming and had rushed out to find the others frantically trying to free Bobbi from under a brick wall that had collapsed on top of her. When he set eyes on her, Hunter had yelled for her to get out, get away ... and she had fled, tears blurring her vision as she scrambled from the devastation. Devastation she had caused.

Bobbi had survived, albeit with a concussion, a broken arm and a fractured pelvis. But Skye knew it was a matter of time before there would be more serious casualties.

She had to get away from here. As far away as possible from the people she cared about before she put any more of them in danger. She had been thinking about leaving SHIELD for some time but couldn't quite summon the courage to do so. Until now.

The catalyst, the final straw was when Coulson suggested the next day that she undergo 'testing' by SHIELD scientists, to be headed by Simmons.

"We only want to find out more about your potential, Skye." Jemma had attempted to reassure her but failed miserably. "And perhaps find a way to help you control your powers. I promise it will be as minimally invasive as possible."

She had shuddered at her use of the word 'control'. She pictured herself strapped to a gurney, being prodded and poked and experimented on like a lab rat. Or worse yet – cut into.

_Like my mother was_ ...

_Discovery requires experimentation._

The late Dr Whitehall's ominous words echoed in her head, the threat implicit in the statement.

_No thanks._

So she had packed a few meagre belongings and slipped out under the cover of darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Skye had been surprised at how easily it was to find him. She tracked him down to a small town on the outskirts of Phoenix, apparently leading a normal life now as a bar owner. His dramatic transition had intrigued her. Clearly she was not the only one to to go through a life-changing transformation since that day in San Juan, all those months ago.

Standing outside the bar, she paused before going in, agonizing for the hundredth time whether or not this was a good idea.

_Too late to second guess myself now._

She took a moment to steady her breathing, pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. Her eyes needed a minute to adjust to the dimness of the interior. It was empty except for a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair who was standing behind the bar polishing some glasses. Despite having his back to the door, she recognized him immediately. She didn't need to see his face to know it was exactly who she had come to see. Her eyes roamed over his muscular physique as her heart beat wildly in her chest.

_Ward. _

At the sound of the door opening, he turned around. He froze at the sight of her. Judging from the look on his face, she was the last person he expected to see. He was gazing at her intently, his head cocked slightly to the side. Completely caught off guard, he opened his mouth to speak but his voice failed him.

She attempted a hesitant smile and broke the silence first. "Hello Ward."

"Skye." Ward swallowed the lump in his throat. With the exception of a handful of instances when he had woken from nightmares calling for her, he had not consciously uttered her name in months for fear of dredging up the past. The mere sound of it from his lips still had the power to tug at his heart, to bring back old feelings that he'd rather forget, and dig up memories he'd rather keep buried.

She took a few small steps forward and placed her small hands on the top of the bench. The bottles on the shelf vibrated ever so slightly in response and she forced herself to suppress her anxiety. If Ward noticed the tremor, he didn't show it.

"What do you want?" Ward dispensed with any pleasantries the moment his voice returned to its normal pitch.

_What do I want? To stay here with you ... and imagine the world outside doesn't exist. _

Words from a lifetime ago –_ his_ words – came back to her in a flash. Words that she always associated with their searing kiss, his hands in her hair, his tortured confession – _I'm not a good man, Skye_.

"Is the team outside? Are you going to take me in or just kill me right here?" His words pulled her back from her reverie.

She recoiled from the harshness in his voice and her hopeful smile faltered.

"I'm alone," she answered quietly. "I left SHIELD."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't say another word.

"I ... I ..." She found herself at a loss to explain her presence in his bar.

"Why are you here?" Ward repeated his question. When she didn't reply straight away, he lifted up his shirt to reveal the scars that trailed down the right side of his abdomen. "Come to finish the job?"

"No." Skye shook her head as she searched his eyes for a glimmer of understanding.

"So ... what? You're here for a friendly chat over a drink?" Ward said, sarcasm dripping with each word. "Run along back to Coulson, Skye. Tell him I'm keeping my nose out of trouble."

"I told you, I'm not with SHIELD anymore. I left." Skye struggled to find the right words. "I don't belong with them anymore."

"But what?" Ward was incredulous. "You belong here? With me?"

"I don't know. Maybe ..." Her voice trailed off as she looked away. "I thought you'd be the only one to understand. Other than my father."

He wondered if he was hallucinating. It was surreal. After all the time he spent being devoted to her, to be constantly met with derision at his attempts to convince her of the authenticity of his feelings ... here she was, literally at his door, hinting at wanting some sort of reconciliation. When he had finally moved on. She was here to torture him and he would have none of it. He steeled his heart against anything else she would have to say.

"Oh, I understand alright." Ward felt the resentment bubbling to the surface as he continued. "How can I not, after what you did? You shot me! And straight after what Raina said. About how I felt about you. How I _loved _you. I kept my promise to you to take you to your father. I freed you from those HYDRA soldiers. But still, after all that - after all I did to try to redeem myself ... You shot me." He reiterated as she winced at his acerbic tone. "And left me to bleed to death."

"Ward, please ..." Skye's eyes widened at his outburst as she tried to interject.

Ward refused to be interrupted. "No. After that, I was done with you. It was pretty clear to me I was wasting my time chasing after you. I mean, nothing says rejection like a few bullets to the gut, right? The fantasy of us together ... it was just that – a fantasy. A dream which I have well and truly woken up from. And all it took was four bullets to make me see reason. "

He had kept those bullets after The Doctor – her father - dug them out of his side. He kept them in a jar on his bedside table so he could look at them every night before sleeping – a souvenir of his folly – to remind himself to never make the same mistake again. To never allow himself to be _weak_ again.

He never thought she'd be standing in front of him again and it felt good to let it all out. To have an outlet for his anger and frustration that he'd kept suppressed for so long. But he feared that the wall of ice he had built around his heart would begin to melt as long as she kept gazing at him with those doe-like eyes. She didn't have to say another word to start breaking down his defenses. She was chipping away at his resistance just being in the same room as him.

_Damn her_.

She had come to drive him out of his mind with desire and yearning again. He felt himself being distracted by her proximity, once again being hypnotized by her beauty and it took all his willpower to not let himself be drawn under her spell. He would not let her – _his weakness_ – be his undoing again.

"So if you haven't come here to kill me, then I suggest you leave now. I'm not wasting another second of my life on you." He continued, as he carefully set his features into a neutral expression. He was determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she still affected him.

"About that day ... I won't apologize for shooting you," Skye replied frankly. "In the heat of the moment, with all the craziness going on ... I did what I thought was right at the time. But now..."

"You did me a favour, actually. It was a wake-up call. Before you shot me, I was bound to you like a fool - weak and pathetic ... I believed for the longest time that I was in love with you and hoped that you'd come around. Someday. Stop hating me, at least. But no. You clearly just saw me as your enemy. You were never going to feel anything other than revulsion for me." Ward's eyes darkened with emotion as he continued. "It took me a while but I moved on. From you. From what I thought I felt for you."

She dared to take a step closer to him and met his gaze, the darkening tints in her own eyes matching his. "Is that really true? You've moved on?" Her voice was quiet.

"What game are you playing at, Skye?" Ward avoided her question by asking one of his own. "Does it give you pleasure to mess with my head? I'm trying to put my life back together. Without SHIELD, HYDRA or anyone else to tell me what to do. I'm trying to lead a good life now, Skye. I haven't hurt a single person since San Juan."

"I came here to tell you that you were right. What you said to me once ..." Skye looked at him through a veil of fresh tears. "That you and I aren't all that different. We are both monsters."

He sighed heavily and what he said next chilled her to her core. "Maybe _you_ are. But I'm not. Not anymore. I've cut all ties with HYDRA, I've atoned for my sins, and I'm leading a quiet life now. A normal life. No more death, no more deceit ... no more waking up wondering if today is going to my last. And I'm happy."

"Please, Ward." She pleaded with him. "I don't know who else to turn to. My father ... he cares for me but he's unstable at best. No one else understands. I was afraid I'd hurt Coulson and the others if I stayed with them any longer. I'm going crazy with these new powers ... I can't control them."

The room started to tremble rhythmically in response to her escalating emotions. A glass on the table teetered precariously close to the edge before toppling over and shattering to the floor. She closed her eyes and concentrated on steadying her breathing. The room stopped vibrating. She looked up at Ward's face and expected to see fear in his eyes just like everybody else. But there was none, despite witnessing the display of her power. Just a mild curiosity. The relief that washed over her was a balm to her wounded soul.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He looked at her stricken face, sighed again and put his hands on her shoulders, gripping them lightly. "Listen to me, Skye. I can't help you. I'd probably make it worse."

"No. You told me once that someday I'd understand. And I do now. I understand we both share a darkness inside us." She pleaded with him one last time. "You're the only one who can help me control it. Please, Ward. Please help me."

He recalled the last time she had pleaded with him. He was a prisoner in Coulson's dungeon and it was all a ruse to get as much information from him as possible before he was to be shipped off to Christian. He had fallen for it then - her charms, her tears, her manipulations ... And yet, despite her callous disregard for his fear of being returned to his sadistic abusive brother, he had still held on to his devotion for her. He had forgiven her betrayal, just as he had hoped she would forgive him of his – someday.

That hope had been his beacon in the darkness. He had hung on to it like a drowning man clinging to a lifeboat, right up until the very instant the bullets pierced his side and he stared in disbelief at the impassive expression on her face as he crumpled to the floor. Her indifference had stung more than the wounds – the way in which she had walked past his prone body with barely a second glance and the chilling words she had left him to contemplate while he lay there bleeding. To death, for all she cared.

_Never turn your back on the enemy._

She had played him then, just as she was playing him now. He was still unclear of her agenda here, but he was in no hurry to find out. His days of being controlled – by her or by anyone - were well and truly over. He'd be damned if he'd give her the power to destroy him again, not after he had worked so hard to cut all strings to his former existence and to rebuild his life without being shackled to someone who didn't give a damn about _his_ well-being. No. He couldn't let her back in now; it just wasn't worth the risk. He fortified the shield around his heart.

"We're no good for each other, Skye." He turned away from her so that he wouldn't see the fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "You need to get the hell out of my bar. Now."


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't believe she just took off like that." Fitz said, as he fidgeted with one of his electronic gadgets. "Without a word to anyone. Just up and left."

Coulson had summoned the team to the conference room for a meeting soon after it was discovered that Skye was missing. The mood was sombre. An uncomfortable mix of anxiety, confusion and relief hung conspicuously in the air. Skye's disappearance had an impact on every one of them. She was family. No matter how drastic her transformation, she was still a valued member of the team. But they were all aware of the unspoken fear that lay just underneath their concern. They had tried, but ultimately failed to hide it from her.

"Well, only Skye herself knows what her motivations are for leaving." Simmons said, ever the diplomat. "She didn't write a note, though, which is a bit out of character."

Coulson spoke up. "She's scared. It's my fault. I didn't handle the situation very well. I knew she was going through some sort of struggle with her new powers. If I had kept a closer eye on her - "

"If you want to blame someone, then you should blame me. I'm her S.O. now." May cut in. "I didn't realize how fragile she was after the events of San Juan. She kept saying she was okay. But she wasn't. She wasn't the same – emotionally and physically. Especially after what happened to Trip ..."

At the mention of his name, the room fell silent. The loss of the amiable agent was a setback from which they were all still recovering. He was keenly missed – his laid-back sense of humour, his eternal optimism and unwavering devotion to the team weren't easily forgotten. He had given his life serving SHIELD and there was no finer example of dedication to the greater good than Antoine Triplett. He had died as he had lived – a hero in every sense of the word.

"I was aware of her guilt about what happened to Trip," Coulson said. "It wasn't her fault. I kept telling her that. After a while she just refused to talk about it and insisted she was dealing with it."

"She was distancing herself from all of us." May said quietly.

The others nodded silently in agreement. It was true. She had pulled away from everyone gradually, over the course of the last few months. The sense of camaraderie was gone; her frightening new powers and her lack of control of them had driven an emotional wedge between her and the rest of team.

"Do we have any idea where she might have gone?" Simmons' worry was evident. "Not back to her deranged father, surely?"

"She sought him out already but came back shortly after seeing him. I had my reservations but she was insistent she find him, to talk to him." Coulson explained to the team. "The visit actually seemed like it did her some good. She seemed happier and relaxed when she returned."

"And then last night ..." Fitz didn't need to continue for everyone to understand what he meant - yet another nightmare, the ensuing quake, the resulting demolition of the training room.

"We've all seen what she's capable of." Hunter said quietly, thinking about Bobbi who was still recovering in the infirmary. He still felt bad for yelling at Skye but the shock of seeing his ex-wife pinned helplessly under the rubble, limbs askew, prompted him to lash out. "Do I need to be the one to say it out loud? Something needs to be done about it. She's bound to hurt more people if she doesn't learn to control her powers."

"Which is why I suggested we do some testing, after what happened last night." Coulson continued, shaking his head. "And that was apparently the impetus that led to her taking off. Bad choice of words. She told me what Whitehall did to her mother, the experimentation the poor woman was subjected to. No wonder she freaked out and ran."

"Maybe she'll come back on her own accord." Simmons said, her trademark optimism coming to the fore. "She probably just needed a time-out to get some new perspective."

"Maybe." Coulson was practical. "But we can't assume she will. In her agitated state, she's a danger to herself and others. We need to find her and bring her back."

"Is HYDRA a variable here?" May asked.

"Yes." Coulson said simply. "Whitehall might be dead but we all know that HYDRA is still up and running. Cut off one head and all that ... They're still a threat. And always on the lookout for super-powered recruits to achieve their goal of world domination."

Simmons gasped, the consternation clear in her words. "If HYDRA is aware of her new abilities then they'll definitely want to get their hands on her. She's particularly vulnerable to capture now. She'd be the perfect candidate for their recruitment. After they brainwash her, they'll train her to control and amplify her power. And the implications of that are too monstrous to contemplate."

"She doesn't realize the danger she's in." Coulson was grim. "We have to find her before HYDRA gets wind of her."

* * *

><p>"Who is she?" The new head of the U.S. division of HYDRA, a tall man with a subtle German accent and formidable broad shoulders, asked as he looked up at the screen. On it was an image of a dark haired young woman.<p>

"She's a new addition to SHIELD's Index for the Gifted, sir." The analyst answered. "Our sources say she has seismic abilities but she hasn't been subjected to further testing yet so the extent of her power is as yet undocumented."

"Interesting." Whitehall's replacement was intrigued. " Is she a SHIELD agent?"

"Yes, sir." The analyst started typing on her laptop. "But latest intel suggests that she left recently for unknown reasons. Whereabouts currently unknown."

"Really? Well, how fortuitous for us." His smile was sinister. "I have a feeling she will be a good asset for us. As soon as she's made to comply."

He stood and stared intently at her photograph on the monitor.

"Find her." The man said. "Bring her in."


	4. Chapter 4

Skye blinked back tears as she stumbled out of the bar and back into the bright sunlight. Numb with shock after the confrontation with Ward and lacking any clear idea of where she was going, she was on auto-pilot as she started walking down the street towards the town centre.

She had been so sure, so certain that he would help her. She had taken his devotion to her in the past for granted and it made the sting of his rejection all the more unbearable.

She hadn't counted on this. She was not so naive to think he would accept her with open arms but his outright refusal had shaken her immeasurably.

It was so unexpected.

She supposed she couldn't blame him for being bitter. He was right – she did shoot him without remorse and had left him to die. And had dismissed all that he tried to do for her. But he was evil ... he deserved it – didn't he? Her justification for how she had treated him sounded hollow and self-righteous now. It wasn't like she was without sin – her hands were far from clean.

Maybe she wasn't quite as tainted as Ward was but she was responsible for her own fair share of suffering. What right did she have to judge him so harshly? She knew now that it was wrong for her to hold on to her anger and resentment for so long. Deep down, she had always known that his feelings for her outweighed his allegiance to HYDRA. Everything he did proved that.

It had taken her own transformation into a monster to give her insight into his struggle with his demons in the past. She didn't understand before; all his talk about the darkness inside the both of them had sounded absurd to her back then. She had scoffed at his claims that they weren't all that different. She had been unforgiving and callous – too stubbornly idealistic to see beyond black and white, good and evil. Things were never that simple – that much, at least, was clear to her now. But it was too late. She had lost him for good.

Mentally and physically exhausted, she collapsed on the first park bench she came across as fresh tears welled in her eyes. She watched as people walked past her, going about their day-to-day business; _normal_ people - a man taking his labrador for a walk in the park, a young woman pushing a baby in a stroller, an elderly man sitting on a nearby seat next to the water fountain reading the newspaper. All around her, life was happening. Normal life. She wondered if she would ever feel 'normal' again.

She had no idea what she was going to do now. She contemplated her options. She could go back to SHIELD. Coulson and the rest were probably worried, if not already actively looking for her now. She felt guilty for just taking off without warning but felt she had no choice. She wasn't certain that they'd all be happy to see her again. Especially after what happened to Bobbi. The resentment and terror she saw in Hunter's eyes spoke volumes even before he had yelled at her to get away. Did she want to go back to that? To the fear in their eyes every time they looked at her? To be subjected to 'testing'? She wasn't so sure.

There was always her father. He had made it clear that she could always turn to him if she needed him. Maybe they could catch up on a little father-daughter bonding - there were so many questions she still wanted to ask him about her past. Her mother, for one. She didn't even know her name and barely had time to mourn her after hearing of her demise. She was curious about the village where she was born and of his life there before she was taken away from him.

Cal was still unstable, but not to the dangerous degrees she saw at San Juan. It was as though finally seeing her after all these years was an antidote to some of his instability. But she wasn't sure she trusted him enough yet though.

She could try and make it on her own. Maybe that was exactly was she deserved - to be alone. Away from anyone to whom she could potentially pose a threat. The thought of spending the rest of her days in isolation overwhelmed her with sadness. The life of a lone wolf didn't sound particularly appealing to her. It was not in her nature to be a loner - she always preferred company over solitude. Working in a team best suited her affable personality and she played well with others. At least, she used to – before she was cursed with new monstrous powers that caused a rift between her and everyone she cared about.

A single tear trailed its lonely path down her cheek and landed on her tightly clenched fist that she had propped under her chin.

"Excuse me, dear, are you all right?" A voice cut into her thoughts.

She looked up to see that an elderly man was standing in front of her, his eyes full of concern. It was the same gentleman she noticed earlier, the one sitting close by on another park bench reading the newspaper. She hadn't noticed that he approached her; she was so deep in her contemplations.

_Great spy I've turned out to be ... didn't even notice this guy right in front of me._

"I don't mean to bother you, but you look so sad." He said, resting one arm on his cane. "It's a terrible thing to see one so young and pretty looking so forlorn."

She couldn't help but smile. He must have been a real charmer in his youth.

"May I?" He motioned to the space next to her on the bench.

"Of course." Skye scooted over a little to make room for him. "I'm okay, really. Just a bad day."

_More like a bad year._

"Boy troubles?" He said lightly, as he eased himself down slowly next to her. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at his bluntness and he apologized quickly upon seeing her reaction. "Oh, pardon me ... I didn't mean to pry. Please forgive this silly old man ..."

"No, no, it's fine." Skye felt an unexpected rush of relief talking to this man. The fact that he was a complete stranger made it easier, actually. "And yes, you could say that."

_Boy troubles. Understatement of the century._

"I'm Joe." He held out his hand. She shook it firmly, savouring its warmth as the callused fingers wrapped around her small hand.

"Skye."

"Ah .. lovely name for a lovely lady." He winked at her, eliciting a smile in return. "Now, tell me about the fool who would dare mar such beauty with tears."

She sighed and shook her head, thoughts of Ward and his rejection threatening to overwhelm her again.

"He's not the fool." She whispered, head cast downwards. "I am."

"Well, if you ask me - _he _is the fool if he can allow you to sit alone in the park and cry." He frowned, the wrinkles on his forehead creasing together. He continued his astute observation. "There's no excuse for that."

"Thanks your concern." Skye sniffled, feeling sheepish under his sympathetic, paternal gaze. "But I'll be okay."

He didn't push her for more and they sat in silence for a few minutes, both gazing at the nearby water fountain and the hypnotic way in which the droplets danced high in the air before returning to the pool.

"I used to come here every day with my wife. This is where we met. I remember the first time I laid eyes on her... She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen." Joe said wistfully, as emotion deepened the timbre of his voice. "She passed last year."

"I'm so sorry." Skye felt an inexplicable connection with this man she had just met, and could feel the pain of his loss.

"Thank you, dear." He replied, as he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping the corners of his eyes. "We had fifty-three wonderful years together. It wasn't always smooth sailing, mind you – my goodness she had a temper! But it was all worth it. Some things are just meant to be."

_Some things are meant to be._

Ward had said that to her once, an eternity ago. She had just received her SHIELD badge and it was before all the HYDRA chaos was unleashed on them. It was a simpler time and she yearned for the comfort and security of the old days. Suddenly she felt tears prickling the backs of her eyes again and she struggled to keep them from spilling over onto her cheeks.

"Listen to me, dear. If your beau doesn't see the error of his ways and come back and find you ... well, then he doesn't deserve you." Joe patted her hand reassuringly. "You hang in there, Skye. You're a strong young woman, I can tell. You take care now."

He got up slowly and she watched as he shuffled away on his walking stick, his newspaper tucked neatly under one arm. Before reaching the end of the path, he turned and tipped his hat to her in farewell. She smiled warmly and waved in return.

It was remarkable how the words of a kindhearted stranger had the ability to offer some clarity. She didn't feel quite so lost anymore, as she sat in the warm sunshine and once again started mulling over her future.

_A future without Ward. Or SHIELD. _

She sighed and mentally prepared herself to walk back to the bus stop where she had arrived only a few hours ago. She still wasn't sure where she was going to go but decided she'd make up her mind once she was there. Just pick a destination off the schedule and go with it. She'd make the most of it - she would get by. She was a survivor.

_A strong young woman._

Taking a quick look around her, this time she was not too distracted to notice the four men in dark suits heading in her direction. They were clearly out of place with the rest of the people in the park – there was something decidedly predatory about them which set off alarm bells in her head warning her of impending danger.

_HYDRA._

Feeling the adrenaline beginning to course its way through her system, she was up on her feet in an instant. She turned and walked quickly out of the park towards the bus terminal, hoping they would lose track of her in a crowd. Overestimating the distance between herself and the men, she was surrounded by a wall of suits before she could reach her goal.

"Agent Skye?" One of them said. "Or should we call you Daisy?"

"Wait - how did you ...?" The way he addressed her caught her completely off guard. No one else knew her birth name. Except her father ... and Coulson. Confusion washed over her as she tried to grasp the implications of what just transpired. How did HYDRA find out about her?

_Oh man, I'm in big trouble._

She realized how vulnerable she was and there was no one to help her. For the first time since she could remember, she was alone with no backup whatsoever – and it was more than a little disconcerting.

* * *

><p>AN: - To the guest reviewer who hypothesized that the identity of the mystery baddie was Baron Von Strucker ... I can neither confirm nor deny at this stage! ;) You'll find out soon enough ...

- Out of curiosity, did anyone get the impression that the old man was suspicious? After reading it, my hubby was convinced he would turn out evil in the end and wind up ripping off a photostatic veil (a la Agent 33) to reveal a HYDRA agent underneath ... I admit, I was tempted to go down that path but decided against it - poor Skye needed a small break from all the crap she's been through, wouldn't you agree? So I kept Joe as a just a sweet, concerned old chap ;)

- Next up ... my first attempt at an action sequence!

Thanks for reading! :)


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Skye was out the door, what little strength Ward had left in his legs deserted him and he slumped into the nearest chair. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in slow circular motions in an attempt to ease the tension that had settled there. His entire body ached; his head, the still tender wounds in his side, and perhaps most of all – his heart.

The unexpected showdown with Skye had left his psyche battered and bruised, his battle-weary soul on the verge of surrender. The exhaustion he felt was comparable to how he had felt after a particularly harrowing mission. But at least then he knew his body would always recover afterwards, despite the pain – fractured ribs mended, lacerations closed up, gunshot wounds healed – time was all that was needed. His flesh always knitted back together.

There was no blood spilled from this confrontation – the only injuries he sustained were internal and invisible, the only damage was to his heart. His threshold for pain was high, but she had pushed him beyond his limits. He would not survive another onslaught - his defenses were not strong enough against her weaponry of cajoling words and tear-filled glances.

He was a broken man. He was broken before Garrett recruited him, during his time with HYDRA and after he was exposed as a SHIELD traitor. But she had given him hope that there was a chance for him to be whole. He had known that from the instant he had pulled the bag off her head in the interrogation room on the Bus and looked into that beautiful, yet defiant face. She had woken something dormant inside of him he never even knew existed.

She would be his sanctuary.

But instead, she had left him even more damaged than what he was before - and with an additional four bullet wounds thrown in for good measure. It had taken some time but he had put himself back together. And now she had come back and had once again threatened to shatter everything he worked so hard to repair.

Although he felt completely drained, he was relieved at least, that his last words to her had achieved their desired effect. She was gone. His rejection was harsh but he had no other choice; he knew he had to be ruthless otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get through to her. If she had stayed a minute longer, he was convinced that his resolve would've crumbled, no matter how hard he tried to remain immune to her pleas.

Sighing, he stood up wearily, stepped back behind the bar and reached for a bottle of scotch. He poured himself a double, the dark amber liquid swirling in the glass to match the whirlpool of emotions spiraling inside him. He brought the glass to his lips and the action triggered a memory of the first time they shared a drink on the Bus, during the 0-8-4 retrieval mission in Peru. She had approached him tentatively, holding out the bottle as a peace offering.

_I feel like you and I ... wrong foot. Let's start over._

A fresh start. A clean slate. A new beginning. Those things weren't possible for people like them. Not for ex-SHIELD, former HYDRA traitors and beings – _was she even human?_ - with strange new powers that he had yet to understand. Things were just too complicated between them to start over.

He had done the right thing by telling her to go. Part of him – the part that still wanted her, still loved her – screamed at him to run after her, tell her he was sorry, that he didn't mean what he said, and sweep her up in his arms and never let her go again. But that was ridiculous. As absurd as it was, however, the urge was strong and it took all his willpower to push it deep down. And lock it away.

They were better off being as far away from each other as possible. They would cause each other nothing but pain and misery. Yes, this was for the best. They both needed to move on.

In time, they would forget each other. He would forget her teasing smile, the way her hair tumbled in soft waves on her shoulders, her ability to see the good in everything. In time, all traces of her would be gone. Maybe he would even find someone else to love. Someone who wouldn't drive him wild with frustration, or push him to the edges of his sanity ... or empty a clip into his side.

All the points on his check-list of reasons why they shouldn't be together were ticked off. It was the rational, sensible thing to do.

Only there was nothing rational or sensible about the way her scent still lingered in the air, or how he had noticed her eyes lighting up when he turned to face her when she first stepped in, or how his heart had skipped a beat at the sight of her, or the way her skin seemed to glow under the dim lights of the bar...

_Damn it, Skye. I thought I was rid of you. Why did you come back to haunt me?_

He really had to stop torturing himself with memories of her. He forced himself to think of something else. He could not succumb to it.

He emptied the rest of the glass in one swallow, savouring the slow pleasant burn of the liquid on his tongue before it traveled down his throat and settled in his stomach. The resulting heat that radiated slowly outwards was a welcome feeling. It was a pity the warmth didn't extend to his heart.

* * *

><p>"Get the hell away from me," Skye said, as she pulled her shoulders back and held her head high in defiance. She eyed the four-man acquisition team that had circled her. <em>Convince or capture. <em>She recalled Ward's intel about HYDRA's stance on 'gifteds' with horror.

"We're not here to hurt you." One of the men spoke, holding his palms outward. "We just want to talk. Make you an offer."

"I have nothing to say to you and I am not interested in any offer you have." Skye's tone was icy. "Now let me pass ..."

"We have orders to bring you in," HYDRA Agent Number Two said. "You won't be harmed if you comply."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Skye refused to be intimidated.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Number Three said, motioning to his weapon.

She surveyed her surroundings quickly to ensure no innocent civilians – _Joe_ - were in harm's way. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if even one unsuspecting bystander got hurt on her account. She'd rather surrender than resort to using her powers if it meant someone other than these HYDRA thugs would suffer the consequences.

She realized the danger she could put these people in. Breathing deeply and evenly, she focused on harnessing her power - she had to be careful and limit the damage to her specific targets. Now was the time she needed to exercise control. Satisfied that the street was relatively free of pedestrians and traffic, she looked at the men one by one, and gave them a grim warning.

"Trust me, you don't want to find out what the hard way is." Skye said, as menacingly as she could, as she stood her ground.

HYDRA Agent Number One reached for his sidearm. She reacted instinctively, channeling her energy into a surge of power that rippled through her body as she threw her hands up towards the men. The ground directly underneath them trembled and the force of the undulations knocked them off their feet. Taking advantage of their momentary disorientation, Skye turned and took off in the other direction as fast as she could.

"Run!" She screamed at a few startled-looking onlookers. "It's not safe here!"

She was desperate to clear the area as well as she could. HYDRA clearly had no concern for collateral damage, but for her, the only number of acceptable losses was zero. Thankfully, the few remaining bystanders heeded her warning and fled.

She ran as fast as her legs could take her, the combination of physical exertion and adrenaline making her heart beat in a wild staccato rhythm. Managing to put some distance between them, she was taken by surprise when she felt a sting as something hit her left shoulder. She gasped in shock but was relieved it wasn't a bullet. She'd been shot before and this discomfort was nothing compared to that blinding pain. A numbness traveled from the point of contact down to her legs. They had shot her with some sort of tranquilizer dart like she was a wild animal.

Blind rage washed over her in waves even as the strength was slowly robbed from her limbs. Summoning all her remaining energy, she turned and faced her enemies for a counterattack. She crouched down low on the ground and slammed her fists against the pavement. A crevice snaked along the cement in the direction of the agents, opening up a gaping hole in the earth where they stood. Two of the men shrieked as they fell into the abyss, their cries echoing in unison up to the surface before ending abruptly.

She stood shakily to her feet. Her vision was beginning to blur, as she struggled to remain upright. The two remaining HYDRA agents were advancing on her, preparing to fire another shot.

She focused her attention on the ground at the foot of a nearby light pole and the ensuing vibrations caused it be ripped out of its bed of concrete. It began its descent towards the men but they predicted its trajectory and moved deftly out of its path. She moaned in frustration - her energy was swiftly depleting, but managed to avoid another dart aimed at her leg.

Attempting to generate another seismic bolt, she turned her palms once again in their direction but this time nothing happened. Her powers were neutralized, made dormant from the serum pumping through her veins from the dart.

She slumped to the ground, her fragile grip on consciousness loosening with every passing second. The last thing she heard was the sound of a shot being fired. Then everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

Ward was pensive as he swept up pieces of shattered glass on the floor from his earlier encounter with Skye.

_She did this. But how?_

Her talk of gaining new powers - and her lack of control over them - had his curiosity piqued. There was no doubt about it, he wanted to know more.

Raina's cryptic words from long ago returned to taunt him – her assertion that Skye's parents were 'monsters' and that she was special had raised more questions than had offered anything in the way of answers. He had tried to piece together the bits of information he was given about her but the enigma that was Skye still remained unsolved – she was an incomplete puzzle with key pieces missing. He turned a shard of glass over in his hands thoughtfully.

_Pieces solving a puzzle._

Raina was convinced that Skye's true nature would reveal itself. But then again, he was dubious that she was completely sane - all her rhetoric about evolution and transformation was reminiscent of Garrett before he lost it.

Ward grimaced at the unpleasant memory. He could speak six languages, but Crazytalk was not one of them. And both Garrett and Raina were seemingly fluent in it – in the end.

A thousand questions raced through his mind simultaneously, as he carefully gathered up the sharp fragments off the floor.

_Is she telekinetic? Is that how she made the glass fall off the table? What is she now? What has she become? Has the mystery of her 0-8-4 status finally been solved?_

He recalled his awe at seeing Skye seize the Obelisk in San Juan - after she had been ordered at gunpoint to do so by Whitehall – and the eerie way in which the alien symbols etched into it had glowed ominously in response to her contact. Her reaction to it had taken his breath away - she was determined and fearless and he had never seen her looking so strong and beautiful.

_Did touching the Obelisk somehow cause the awakening of her powers?_

He knew he would probably never get the answers to his questions now that she was gone. Once again, he felt the familiar yet unwelcome tug at his heart at the thought of never seeing her again.

Tossing the broken shards of glass in the trash can, he briefly considered pouring another shot of scotch before thinking better of it. As tempting as the thought of drowning his sorrows was, he resisted the lure of oblivion. For now, anyway. He returned the bottle back to its usual position on the shelf.

He was still attempting to shake the remnants of Skye from his consciousness when a low rumble reverberated though the building. The glasses on the shelf rattled in response and he was jolted into action to prevent the bottle of scotch from crashing to the floor.

_What the hell?_

Then the screaming started; the cries of distress in stark contrast to the stillness inside the bar. He tensed - every single nerve in his body on high alert. Something was happening outside and he sensed – he _knew_ - that the commotion had something to do with Skye.

_She's in trouble._

Feeling a sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach, he reached behind the counter for the firearm he kept hidden there and hastily made his way outside.

The scene he came across a few blocks from his bar was like something out of a war zone. Panicked people were running in all directions, terrified by the devastation that was just unleashed. The road was ripped apart, chunks of cement and debris strewn all over what was left of the street. A single light pole, uprooted from its fixture, lay across the pavement in front of him and he gaped at the crevasse that had opened up in the ground.

_What the hell happened here? Earthquake? Skye ... did she do this?_

He was still taking in the chaos when the two men entered his field of vision. Dressed in dark suits and giving off a decidedly menacing air, they all but screamed HYDRA. It may as well have been tattooed on their foreheads. With weapons raised, they were walking warily towards a petite figure that was lying on the ground, motionless, a few yards away from them.

_Skye._

His reaction required almost no forethought. His years as a specialist kicked in - he aimed his gun with perfect precision and put a bullet in the head of the man closest to her before he could move another inch in her direction. He thought he saw her arm twitch slightly in response to the sound of the shot and relief washed over him. She was alive – for now.

Thrown off guard at the unexpected arrival of another adversary, the remaining member of the HYDRA acquisition team paused momentarily before turning his attention to Ward. He fired two shots at him in quick succession. Ward took advantage of his initial hesitation and threw himself behind a parked car just in time to dodge one bullet but felt the impact as the other one grazed his upper arm. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he swiftly pushed it aside and compartmentalized it as he had done countless times before during battle.

Ward wasted no time in firing back, and his enemy was incapacitated with a perfectly aimed shot to the upper leg. With a strangled cry, the HYDRA agent dropped his weapon, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the ground. He clutched the wound as the blood began to flow freely down his leg, leaving a crimson pool on the cement beneath him. Ward moved in slowly, aiming his gun directly at the agent's head.

"You chose the wrong target." Ward's words cut through the man's haze of pain. "What do you want with her?"

The man glared at him, eyes ablaze with rebellion and remained resolutely silent. Ward was in no mood for games; he unceremoniously fired another bullet in the fallen man's lower leg, just below the kneecap. It was enough to break through his defiance - he screamed in agony and looked up wildly at Ward, fear and pain flashing in his eyes.

"I have plenty more bullets." His warning was clear. "You really want me to use them?"

"Okay, okay!" The agent raised one hand, stained with blood, with palm towards Ward as a gesture of capitulation. "Don't shoot! We were instructed to bring the girl in alive. Skye... Daisy. She'd be a valuable asset to us. With her powers..."

_Daisy?_

"Who sent you?" Ward wanted more information. He knew they were HYDRA but wanted to know who was in charge after the events of San Juan had left Whitehall dead. "Who's the new head of HYDRA? Who do you answer to?"

"I .. I've never met him but they call him the Baron. That's all I know, I swear."

_The Baron... Wolfgang von Strucker._

A chill ran through him. Daniel Whitehall was a sadistic son-of-a-bitch but Strucker made him seem like an eccentric Disney cartoon villain in comparison. Ward was well aware of the Baron's reputation for being a ruthless and blood-thirsty megalomaniac during his time with HYDRA. In his confrontation with Whitehall's lapdog Bakshi, he had confirmed that Strucker was taking care of business overseas. But he must have returned in the wake of Whitehall's demise. One HYDRA head had been cut off ... and another – far worse one – had taken its place. Ward never got the chance to meet the man but he had heard enough from Garrett to know that he was not someone you'd want on the opposing team.

But he was in too deep to back out now. Glancing at Skye's slumped body on the ground, unsure of how badly hurt she was or whether she was even alive, he realized something he had always known - his need to protect her would never fade with time. He would defend her with his dying breath, regardless of how much she had hurt him in the past - or how much she could do so in the future. He was fooling himself if he ever believed otherwise. Seeing her in this vulnerable state was the epiphany he needed to show him how big a mistake it was to send her away. He made up his mind.

He crouched down next to the bleeding man, gripped him firmly on the shoulder and looked him straight in the eye.

"I'm going to let you live. Run back to the Baron and tell him that he'll never have Skye. She will never be part of his arsenal. Not if I have anything to do with it."

A short sharp blow to the back of the head with the butt of his gun and the HYDRA agent was knocked unconscious. Ward looked down grimly at the man and resisted the urge to put him out of his misery, to join his partner who was lying a few feet away. He certainly deserved it, after what he did to Skye. But he was of better use to him alive so he could deliver his message, once he came to and scuttled back to his lair.

Ward diverted his attention quickly back to Skye. He was next to her in an instant and fell to his knees next to her unmoving body. Turning her gently over onto her back, he swept her hair aside to gaze down at her face. The combination of her ashen complexion and the cold, clammy texture of her skin frightened him more than he cared to admit.

"Skye... Can you hear me?" He spoke urgently, almost pleadingly.

No response.

With shaking fingers he felt for a pulse. He almost felt his own heart stop when he felt nothing. No heartbeat.

_No. _

She couldn't be dead. She just couldn't be. He was frantic with denial.

"Skye ..." He barely registered the tortured cry that erupted from him as being his own. "No... Skye... No!"

He took a deep breath and he forced himself to calm down enough to check again. Steadying his hand, he applied gentle pressure with two fingers to the side her neck, just under the jawline. He let out a ragged breath when he finally located a weak pulse. It was faint but steady. She was alive. The relief washed over him like a tidal wave. Suddenly exhausted, he wiped a trembling hand down his face.

_Thank god. _

He gave her body a rudimentary check for injuries and found a small dart embedded in her left shoulder. They had tranquilized her. The Baron wanted her alive; he wanted her taken in and broken down until she complied. And then he was going to use her as part of his super-powered army, to aid in his apocalyptic plans for global supremacy.

The black-eyed, Berzerker rage-fueled monster that lurked in his subconscious threatened to take over and seek revenge for those who wanted to harm her and control her. His jaw clenched as he struggled for composure. He managed to calm the beast – for now. Skye's safety was the priority here; any thought of retribution would have to wait.

He looked up as he heard the sirens from the emergency services, growing louder as they steadily approached the scene. He had to make a decision before they arrived. He could leave her here for the authorities – _SHIELD?_ - and hope that they would keep her safe and out of HYDRA's clutches, or ... what? Take her with him and then what? He hadn't thought that far in advance but he was certain of one thing – he couldn't risk letting her out of his sight. Not again. And especially not when HYDRA still posed a very real danger to her well-being.

_A gifted that refuses HYDRA is a threat. And threats are taken care of quickly._

He had said those words to Skye before, when she had interrogated him about HYDRA's involvement with Donnie Gill, a registered gifted with cryokinetic powers. The irony was not lost on him, now that _she_ was the gifted in question, and the current target of HYDRA's campaign of 'Convince, Capture or Cancel'.

They had failed today to either convince or capture – and he certainly wasn't going to let them consider the third option. It was as simple as that.

He returned to the unconscious man, frisked him expertly and divested him of his mobile phone and several other pieces of HYDRA paraphernalia that may prove useful later.

Taking an extra moment to survey his surroundings, he conducted a quick risk assessment to ascertain if there were any remaining HYDRA operatives lurking in the vicinity. Convinced there were no tails on them, he lifted her gently and held her protectively close to his body. He marveled at how little she weighed. With her head resting on his chest, he kept an eye on her pale face as he carried her back to his bar.

_Don't you dare die on me, Skye. Don't you dare._

He repeated his mantra to her in his head as he walked, his features set in an expression of grim determination. As though sensing his anxiety, her pliant body moulded to his hard frame in silent acquiescence.


	7. Chapter 7

"_Scenes of chaos just outside Phoenix earlier today with reports of earthquake-like activity that rocked the small town of Maricopa. Our correspondent, Stan Leigh reports live on scene with an eyewitness."_

"'_I was just walking out of the park, when I felt the ground shake. Then the hole just opened up in the middle of the street. That's when I ran as fast as these old legs could carry me.' An eyewitness, Joe Vanderbilt, reported."_

Coulson had summoned the team for a meeting in the briefing room to watch the latest news report on the monitor. They could barely contain their dismay at what was unfolding on the screen in front of them; images of havoc and mayhem, debris and destruction dominated the display.

"_Footage gathered from several eyewitnesses on the scene shows the extent of the devastation caused in the normally quiet and peaceful town. Although earthquakes in the region are not unheard of, seismologists are at a loss to explain the occurrence but are reluctant to attribute the disaster to natural causes. Initial reports from several experts in the field of geophysics state that it was unlikely an 'earthquake' in the purely scientific sense, based on preliminary test results of the evidence uncovered at the scene."_

Fitz shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly frustrated at the media's vague interpretation of the event. He opened his mouth to comment but quickly shut it again when he caught a glimpse of the no-nonsense expression on Coulson's face. He wanted the team to watch the report in its entirety before any discussion was to begin.

_"Officials declined to comment as to whether the events were the result of possible terrorist activity – if the destruction was caused by some sort of weapon of mass destruction. So the mystery remains: was this just a freak act of nature or was something more sinister at play?"_

Coulson moved to pause the clip just as an image of a brunette young woman flashed briefly on the screen. She was caught on film crouching low on the ground with her fists on the pavement, only a short distance away from the massive hole that had appeared in the earth. Although her face was partially obscured by her wavy locks , it was clear to the team who it was – Skye.

"My god ... Skye ... _she_ did all that?" Simmons was incredulous. Judging from the shocked looks on the faces around her, she was clearly voicing the thoughts of everyone else in the room.

Coulson nodded grimly. "It appears so. It was fortunate that there were no casualties – aside from the three bodies they retrieved on scene. My sources say the deceased were definitely HYDRA. But the likelihood of the number of acceptable losses remaining at zero is ... well, next to zero. Especially if her powers keep manifesting at this accelerated rate. She's bound to hurt innocent civilians before too long."

"Especially if HYDRA is still after her," May added. "And she feels the need to use her powers again to defend herself against them."

"Exactly," Coulson said, his eyes never leaving the screenshot of Skye. "That's why we need to act. Now."

"What's she doing in Phoenix?" Simmons asked, her brows creased in confusion. "Is that the current location of her father?"

"I doubt it," Coulson replied as he directed his attention from the monitor momentarily to look at Simmons. "When Skye went to see him, she returned that same night. She took one of the SUVs for that trip. She didn't tell me his exact whereabouts but he's likely to be in our general vicinity, as opposed to Phoenix."

He shook his head and glanced back up at the monitor that was still paused on the image of Skye. "I don't know why she's there. But we'll find out soon enough."

"So ... what is the plan precisely, sir?" Hunter's concern was clear. He ran one hand through his short hair and rubbed the back of his neck as he continued. "Do we just go there and then grab her? I hate to play the devil's advocate here - but _she_ left _us_, remember? I doubt she'd be happy to be taken in. Even if it's by SHIELD. How does that make us any different to HYDRA?"

Coulson glanced at him, the expression on his face unreadable. "Do I really need to answer that? We don't want to take her in to control her, or use her powers to further any twisted plans for world domination. We need to make sure she doesn't pose a danger to herself or others around her. That's our priority – her safety and that of the people around her."

"What about _our_ safety?" Bobbi muttered under her breath, cradling her arm that was encased in a plaster cast. Deep down, she knew that Skye hadn't intentionally hurt her, but still – she suppressed a shudder at the memory. One minute she was going a few rounds with the punching bag and the next thing she knew she was trapped under a wall of brick and rubble, in a world of pain with her body broken and unable to move an inch. It was not an experience she was too keen on repeating.

"Skye knows we only want what's best for her." Simmons reasoned. "She'll come willingly – I'm sure of it. We're her friends, her _family_..."

"And what if she doesn't cooperate?" Hunter asked bluntly, unconvinced by Simmons' 'the glass is half-full' stance on the situation. "I think we can all agree that she's not completely stable at the moment. Those new powers have messed her up quite a bit emotionally. What if she flips out when she sees us? Do we have the go ahead to use our ICERs?"

"Your apprehension is noted, Hunter." The director was adamant. "But she will cooperate. It won't come to that."

Hunter was still harbouring a fair amount of uncertainty at Coulson's assertion, but he kept uncharacteristically silent. If he still had reservations, then he was keeping them to himself. For now.

"How do we even know she's still there?" Bobbi said, stepping up in support of her ex-husband, with doubt clear in her tone. "What's to say she hasn't taken off somewhere else already?"

"That's a fair comment, Agent Morse," Coulson replied. "But we can see in the footage that she's hurt – if you look closely it appears she has some sort of wound on her shoulder. It was likely she was shot with something to incapacitate her, not to kill her outright. She can't have gone too far."

"Let's hope HYDRA hasn't already taken her." Fitz's words hung ominously in the air.

The team remained quiet for a few moments, taking in the gravity of his statement.

Coulson broke the silence. "Let's move, people." He nodded to May as the team dispersed.

"Wheels up in ten."

* * *

><p>"Interesting." The Baron turned away from the remaining agent of the acquisition team, and clasped his hands together behind his back. "That he left you alive to tell me that."<p>

"I'm sorry we failed, sir." The agent mumbled, hanging his head in deference. This was definitely _not_ how he wanted his first meeting with The Baron to go - to report a failed mission and be the deliverer of an ultimatum of sorts.

The man's feeble apology was ignored. "This 'tall dark-haired man' you encountered... did he tell you his name?"

"No sir."

The Baron had a fair idea of the identity of the girl's mystery saviour. He was aware of Whitehall's movements in his last moments in San Juan and was briefed about an ex-SHIELD agent, would-be (but clearly no longer) HYDRA 'consultant' with motives yet to be determined at the time. What was his name? Oh yes – Grant Ward. Strucker was convinced it was Ward who had left one of his men alive in order to deliver his bold message to him.

His audacity impressed and intrigued him in equal measure – it was not often he was faced with an adversary who showed so little fear at the mention of his name. He could use a man of his considerable talents. But he would have to be made to see the benefits of working for him, not against him. Strucker had ways – _very effective_ ways - to convince him.

He looked down with disdain at the pathetic man cowering in front of him and wondered if the rest of his minions were as equally useless. That would need to change; he needed to fill his ranks with _assets –_ strong reliable soldiers who would get the job done - if he had any hope of fulfilling his destiny. This Grant Ward would be a good addition. Along with the girl.

"Well, we'll just have to be extra diligent in finding and capturing her – both of them - next time, won't we?"

The man nodded enthusiastically. "Yes ... yes sir. Of course, sir. I won't fail you again."

The Baron waved his hand at the man dismissively, signalling for him to leave the room. The disgraced agent limped out as fast as he could, relieved that he would not have to face the Baron's imminent wrath at his inability to capture the target. He had chosen not to shoot the messenger - for the time being.

He returned his gaze to the monitors showing the news footage of the confrontation in Phoenix.

"Her display of powers," he mused quietly to himself. "Quite extraordinary."

He focused on her image.

"Sie wird mein sein."

_She will be mine._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thanks to astridv for correcting that line in German! ;)

Thanks for reading and Happy New Year! :)


	8. Chapter 8

Skye woke to find herself lying in a bed in an unfamiliar room. Her head felt as though her brain was replaced with a lump of lead; its heaviness made any effort to move next to impossible. Suppressing a groan, she managed to pull herself up into a sitting position and winced as pain from her shoulder radiated down her left side. She noticed vaguely that it was bandaged; someone had tended to her wound. But this was no hospital bed she was in. Alarm cut through her haze of disorientation as she realized that she had no idea where she was or worse still – who had her. Rising panic constricted her airway as she frantically gulped for air.

_No no no ... Not HYDRA! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

She chastised herself for her own ineptitude as fear wrapped its cold fingers around her heart. The bed frame took on a life of its own and began to pulsate in rhythm with her desperate gasps. Closing her eyes, she implemented the meditation techniques May had taught her and willed herself to calm her breathing. It helped to loosen the grip of anxiety and the bed stilled, returning to its inanimate state.

She attempted to survey her surroundings with a critical eye, in spite of the heavy feeling in her head and the darkness of the room. At least she wasn't restrained, and that had to be a good sign. With an effort, she managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up. A wave of dizziness hit her and she collapsed back onto the mattress as her legs gave out.

"You're awake." A familiar voice drifted over to her from across the room, its owner concealed in shadows.

"Ward?" she croaked. Relief replaced trepidation when she realized the identity of her 'captor'. But part of her wondered if she was hallucinating. "Where ... what?"

"Shh... don't try and talk now. You got shot with some pretty heavy duty tranquilizer. You were out for the better half of the day. I'm surprised it didn't knock you out for longer." His tone was even, which belied his rapidly escalating pulse. "Stay in bed. I'll check up on you again soon."

Too weak to argue, she leaned back carefully into the pillow. It smelled of him, she noticed - a clean masculine scent that she would always associate with security and budding desire coupled with an undercurrent of betrayal and heartbreak - and the confusing maelstrom of emotions brought tears to her eyes. She wiped them away quickly with the back of her hand before they could spill down her cheeks. Choking back a sob, she closed her eyes and drifted back into oblivion.

Some time later, she felt gentle hands pushing her onto her side to touch the area around her shoulder blade at the site of the puncture. Suddenly, she was acutely aware that she was shirtless, clad only in her bra. A warmth coloured her cheeks pink at the realization as she self-consciously moved her arms over her chest.

"I had to cut your shirt off to tend to the wound." He spoke softly, noticing her flushed reaction and awkward attempt to cover herself.

"Thank you." She managed weakly. Her befuddled brain was apparently not ready to form complete sentences yet. "But why? No hospital... ?"

"I couldn't be certain that they wouldn't try and get to you there." Ward's voice had a hard edge to it as he thought of what HYDRA was prepared to do to her. "You're safer here."

"Here?" She managed to utter.

"Somewhere safe. For now." He was clearly not in a talkative mood. "The bandages need changing."

She nodded wearily as he sat down on the bed next to her. Pushing the soft curls of her hair to the side, he carefully removed the bandages and cleaned the wound gently, doing his best to cause her as little discomfort as possible. When he removed the dart earlier, he had found that the puncture was quite deep but there was minimal bleeding. It was the threat of infection that was his primary concern. That and whether the contents of the tranquilizer would cause any residual adverse effects. There was no way of knowing how much of the stuff was still coursing through her veins. He hoped - but was not entirely convinced yet - that the dart used on her was of the 'capture' and not 'cancel' variety.

Skye shivered slightly as Ward's callused fingers glided deftly over her flesh. It took all his willpower to focus on her injury and not be distracted by how soft and smooth her skin was, and by the rise and fall of her barely covered breasts as she breathed evenly. Satisfied that he had done a reasonable job of disinfecting the wound, he applied a sterile gauze and new bandage to her shoulder.

"That should be okay for the time being," he said softly, avoiding her eyes.

"Ward ... before I left, you said – " she began before he cut her off.

"I know what I said." He sighed. "We'll talk about it when you get your strength back, okay?"

"Okay." She was too tired to argue, and sank back into the softness of the pillow. "And Ward?"

"Yes?" He stopped reorganizing the contents of the first-aid kit momentarily to look at her, his eyes turning a shade darker.

"Thank you. For saving my life. Again." She turned her back to him quickly before he could see the tears welling up in her eyes again. She made an effort to construct a coherent sentence. "And I ... I'll leave you alone as soon as I can. I promise."

His heart ached at what she said but he was rendered speechless. He offered her no comment in return – he simply couldn't find the appropriate words to capture what was going on inside him at that moment. Instead, he ran his hand softly through her hair, sending tingles down her spine. She thought she heard him sigh before he stood up again and left the room.

It was eerily silent when she woke up sometime later. Ward was gone and she felt his absence keenly. Silvery tendrils of moonlight crept in through the gaps in the blinds, danced on the pale walls and illuminated a small segment of the room next to where she lay. Her gaze was drawn to a glass jar on his side table – it contained what appeared to be four bullet fragments.

_They weren't – couldn't be -_

The bullets she had shot him with - he had kept them. Her breath hitched as the significance of the act dawned on her. She swallowed a lump in her throat - he must really hate her to hang on to such morbid souvenirs of that fateful day. She was fooling herself if she thought he could ever forgive her.

The sound of the door opening and steady footsteps coming towards her refocused her attention. She looked up to see Ward carrying a tray which he placed on the bedside table. He then pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. Eyes raking over his towering form, she noticed the bandage on his own arm.

"Wait... what happened to your arm?" Her eyes widened in alarm. "Did – did you get _shot_?"

He glanced down briefly at his bandaged wound. "It's nothing - just a flesh wound. A graze, really. Don't worry about it." His tone was dismissive; he had almost forgotten about the injury. He was more concerned with hers.

"But, but ..." Skye stammered, the worry shaking her to her core. He had taken a bullet for her.

_Another one._

"I said, don't worry about it," he replied gently.

The guilt threatened to overwhelm her. She wondered how many more people would get hurt on her account. The list was growing – Trip, Bobbi, now Ward ... who would be next to fall victim – be it directly or indirectly - to her 'gift'? She felt herself struggling to wrap her head around it.

She would just have to make it on her own. No attachments. Ever. She had no other choice. As soon as she was physically able to, she would leave and get as far away as possible from anyone she cared about. It was wrong to seek him out – the revelation of her own selfishness felt like a slap to the face. It was astonishing to her that she didn't see it earlier. But she knew it now. He couldn't help her, she'd just drag him down with her. Looking at his wounded arm reinforced that. The remorse and ensuing sadness - much like the abyss she created in the street which enveloped the HYDRA agents - threatened to swallow her whole.

_Stop it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Deal with it._

Sensing her turmoil, he moved closer to her and tilted her chin up so their eyes met. "Hey ... it's all right. Everything will be okay. I promise."

_Yes. It will be. Soon. Once I stay away from you and anyone else I care about._

"I made you some soup."

She smiled in appreciation. Helping her sit upright in the bed, he propped some pillows behind her back and pulled the covers over her chest.

"Are you okay to eat it yourself?" Ward asked, his eyes studying her face carefully.

"Er ... Sure." She was slightly indignant at his question. Of course she could feed herself – she wasn't completely useless.

However, when she reached for the spoon she found to her dismay that her hand trembled too much to grip it properly to bring it to her mouth without spilling hot soup all down her – next to naked - front. She groaned in frustration. Without another word, Ward gently took the utensil from her. He silently fed her spoonfuls of soup which she accepted gratefully, although with a great deal of embarrassment. She didn't realize until she took her first bite how famished she was until now.

_Ask him about the bullets in the jar._

She ignored the voice. Asking about the jar would just result in opening up a can of worms, a pandora's box of emotions and harsh realities that she wasn't ready to deal with just yet. She was reluctant to say anything to jeopardize the fragile truce they had tacitly established.

"Mmm .. this is good." She attempted some conversation; the stillness between them was killing her. "You made it yourself?"

"Yes." Amusement flickered across his features before shifting back into a grim expression.

They settled back into silence, as he continued to feed her. When she finished the bowl, he put it down on the tray he had put on the side table and offered her a glass of water. She was parched, accepting it gratefully and emptying the contents in a few gulps. He stood up immediately and returned with a few bottles of water which he placed on the floor next to the bed.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he took in her pallor, his brows creasing with concern.

"Not great but a bit better, thanks. Fuzzy." She grimaced, rubbing her temples slowly.

He moved closer to her and placed his large, warm hand on her forehead. "You're still quite clammy. Maybe even running a fever. Do you feel hot?"

_I do now._

Skye felt the colour rise in her cheeks in response to his touch and was powerless to stop it. She was thankful for the relative dimness in the room in which she could hide.

"I'm worried about residual effects of the tranquilizer." He frowned as he continued, seemingly oblivious to her reaction. "No idea what HYDRA put in that chemical mix. And with your, er ... _special_ genetic makeup ..."

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You might be having some sort of reaction to it." Ward set his mouth in a determined line. "We should get you checked out, just to be on the safe side. Sure you don't want to go back to SHIELD and get Simmons to run some tests? Or maybe your father -"

She did her best to offer him a reassuring smile and shook her head. "I feel fine, really. It'll pass."

He looked at her silently for a moment longer and then acquiesced.

"So ... What happened after I passed out?" Skye was curious. "Last thing I remember was those two HYDRA douchebags getting closer... I thought they got me for sure."

Ward's mouth twitched at Skye's use of the word 'douchebags'. It was throwback to her snarky feisty rookie days that he remembered.

"I took care of them." Ward was blunt. "I left one of them alive to give a message back to HYDRA."

She was startled. "You did? What message?"

He took a breath. "That they will never get their hands on you. Ever."

"Oh ..." Skye was speechless. Why would he risk his life for her? After everything he said? It didn't make any sense.

"I take it that was the first time you were approached by HYDRA?" Ward said quickly, as he noticed her confusion over his comment.

She nodded. It wouldn't be the last. With her powers, it was no wonder that they would want to recruit her. She would be considered a valued asset, something they could shape into a weapon to suit their purpose. Just like Donnie Gill, Carl Creel, Mike Peterson... She was just one of them now. A 'gifted' waiting to be manipulated into servitude. The thought elicited a visceral reaction and she felt the bile rising in the back of her throat.

_To hell with that. I will never surrender to HYDRA._

Perhaps she was better off back with SHIELD. At least they could lock her up in the Cage, if it came to that. She was unsure of where she stood with Ward, even though he had rescued her from HYDRA's clutches and was offering her a safe haven – for now. The uncertainty of the situation did nothing to help with her anxiety levels. But she knew that she couldn't continue putting the people she cared about in harm's way.

_A strong young woman._

Joe's words drifted back into her consciousness. She would have to be now, to deal with her future of being a wanted 'gifted' on the run.

"So Coulson put you on the Index?" Ward's words cut into her thoughts.

"Not that he told me about. He mentioned 'testing' but I left before that could happen." In a flash she remembered how the HYDRA agent had called her by her birth name. Daisy. The colour promptly drained from her face. Coulson must have put it on the Index without telling her and HYDRA managed to get their hands on the information. She felt the sting of betrayal.

_Why didn't he tell me? Why would he keep that from me?_

"So ... your powers. What are they exactly? Are you telekinetic?" Ward asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"No ... Not exactly. _Terra_kinetic, you could say." She recalled Jemma's clinically scientific phrase for her abilities with disdain. "I can move the earth. Cause seismic ripples. Vibrations. Things like that," she replied casually, with a small shrug of her shoulders. "Sounds crazy, huh?"

Skye watched his reaction carefully, and noticed his eyes widen as she described her new powers. As before, she detected no fear, only an interest that sparkled in his dark brown eyes.

"And this all started in San Juan ...?" He was surprised by her light tone.

She nodded, suddenly overcome with weariness. Feeling completely drained, she turned her head lightly away from him and sighed. He sensed that whatever happened that day, after she had shot him, had taken its emotional toll on her and she was still raw from the experience. He wisely chose not to push her for details.

"So ... Daisy, huh?" A small smile played on his lips as he unexpectedly changed the subject. His playful tone took her by surprise. "The HYDRA douchebag told me."

"Yeah." She wrinkled her nose and then shook her head, her embarrassment evident in her body language. "Better than Mary Sue Poots, I guess ... but only slightly."

"I can't say 'Daisy' suits you," he said frankly, amused by her reaction. "You'll always be 'Skye' to me."

Something in his tone made her hold his gaze for a moment longer and she blushed under the intensity of it. There was a look in his eyes that she couldn't quite decipher. She swallowed and found that the dryness in her throat had returned. She reached for another bottle of water by the bed. She gulped it down, avoiding eye contact.

"Ward, I'll need to, ah .. use the bathroom soon." She said sheepishly, when she polished off a third bottle of water. "Can't remember the last time I went."

"It's just over there." He motioned to a door at the end of the room, next to a flight of stairs leading down to the bar. "Do you need help getting there?"

The thought of being pressed up against his body again caused electricity to sizzle through her nerves and she could barely contain her shiver at the prospect of strong arms being wrapped around her, holding her close and making her feel safer than she had in a long time. The idea was hardly unpleasant but that would be dangerous, to overstep the boundaries and get intimate with him now. Even if it was something as innocent as helping - _carrying_ - her to the bathroom. Any further physical contact with him would only make her imminent departure more painful. Things were complicated enough as they were. She put a lid on her emotions.

"I'm okay for now, thanks." Skye smiled.

"Or ... you can use this." He deadpanned, holding up the water bottle.

Her eyebrows shot up. "What? You're kidding right?" Then she laughed, realizing that he was referring to the time on an early mission to apprehend Akela Amador when he suggested she and Simmons use an empty water bottle when they needed the toilet. She recalled her exasperation as she reminded him that girl parts and boy parts were different.

Her laugh acted as a grenade to the last of his defences, and he felt what was left of his barriers crumble. He smiled ruefully. It was just a matter of time, really. He knew it the second he saw her lying on the street with the HYDRA 'douchebags' closing in. He couldn't leave her there for them. His instinct to protect her was still strong, despite everything.

"The robot made a joke." She smiled wryly. "And Ward? Can I borrow a t-shirt or something?"

"Um, yeah of course." He looked away when she pulled the covers closer to her chest, his turn to have colour rising in his cheeks. He walked over to his closet and took out one of his black t-shirts. "It was hard trying to dress you when you were unconscious."

"Thanks." She pulled the t-shirt over her head, savoured the smell of him on the fabric and sank back into the welcome warmth of the bed. "I think I'll have another rest."

"Sure." Ward started heading towards the stairs.

"Ward," she called to him. He stopped in his tracks, turned and looked at her expectantly. "Do you think you could stay here for a little while? Just until I fall asleep?"

"I'll stay as long as you need me." His tone was soft, barely above a whisper.

He approached the bed and leaned over her, and for a tantalizing moment she was convinced he was going to kiss her. She shut her eyes and held her breath, the expectation of his lips against hers making her heart race in anticipation. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt his fingers brush her hair from her face instead, and push a silky curl behind her ear. She tried not to let the disappointment show as he moved away from her and settled back into the chair beside the bed.

"Sleep now," he said. "You're not alone, Skye. I'll be here when you wake up."

She glanced at the bandaged wound on his upper arm as tears prickled the back of her eyes again. Now was not the time to voice her intentions on leaving him, for his own good. She allowed herself the sweet indulgence of this limited time with Ward. She would hold onto the memory of it for when the days stretch into weeks, the weeks into months and months into years - it would provide solace in her future of solitude. It would have to be enough to see her through the hard times ahead.

Closing her eyes again, she succumbed to the call of sleep and drifted in and out of consciousness for an undetermined amount of time. She was not quite completely out of it to be unaware of his presence in the room and it was comforting to know she was not alone - for now. For the first time since San Juan, her slumber was peaceful and completely devoid of any nightmarish visions of debris and dust, chaos and mayhem.

It was all she could hope for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Whew - a long chapter there. Hope I didn't bore you all to tears! ;) I thought Skye and Ward needed a sweet(ish) scene together ... before the proverbial you-know-what hits the fan in the next chapter(s). Thanks for reading! Cheers :)


	9. Chapter 9

"Well, that wasn't a fool's errand at all," Hunter muttered sarcastically to himself as the team made its way back from the centre of town to the quinjet for debriefing.

The entire day had been spent scouring the town for clues on the whereabouts of Skye, only for them to come up empty handed. Not a trace of her anywhere. It was as though she had disappeared.

_Or HYDRA had her._

The unspoken words hung in the air. Hunter wondered if the elephant – or more precisely, the multiple-headed serpent – in the room was ever going to be acknowledged.

"I know it's been a long and seemingly unrewarding day but let's talk over what we have," Coulson said, looking around at the weary faces of his team. "Simmons?"

Tasked with interviewing the civilian witnesses, Simmons had noted that none of them were particularly helpful with their accounts of the event other than providing rudimentary descriptions of earthquake-like behaviour.

"It was mostly all – and I quote – 'the street got torn up, I panicked and ran'," Simmons reported in her usual efficient manner. "Although there was one elderly gentleman whose details I got from the news source," – she looked down perfunctorily at her notes – "Joe Vanderbilt, who stated that he talked to a young woman by the name of Skye in the park just moments before the event. Coincidence? I think not. He mentioned she was 'upset about a boy', but was unable to elaborate. If this woman was indeed our Skye, then perhaps the identity of this 'boy' is important. All very cryptic, really."

"Hmm. We may need to speak to him again." Coulson nodded to Simmons before turning his attention to May. "The first responders?"

"Nothing," May said, the frustration clear in her voice. "The police and paramedics reported nothing we didn't already know. Although, perhaps there is one factor worthy of further deliberation - of the three bodies that were retrieved on scene – two suffered multiple blunt force trauma consistent with the fall into the sinkhole. But the cause of death for one of them was a single GSW to the head."

"Interesting," Coulson mused. "Was Skye armed?"

"It would appear not," Fitz said. "Judging from civilian footage."

_She's a dangerous enough weapon on her own._ Bobbi shuddered.

"Hunter?" Coulson turned to the mercenary. "Any luck at the hospital?"

"No sir. No one matching her description was brought in," He answered with a frown.

There was silence all around as they waited for a prompt from Coulson.

"She's still here. Somewhere. HYDRA does not have her – I'm sure of it." Coulson was adamant as he addressed the team again.

_How can you be so bloody sure?_ Hunter was itching to voice his doubt but bit back his response with an effort. The director was in an apparent state of denial regarding Skye's location and it was really beginning to grate on his nerves. Nevertheless, he resumed his role of the dutiful soldier. He sighed. "So what now, sir?"

"We keep looking. We still haven't worked out why she's here, in this town. That's the key," Coulson said with conviction. "If we determine her reason for coming here, we'll get closer to finding her."

"Any idea how HYDRA knew how to find her here and managed get to her first?" Simmons asked, worry reflected in her brown eyes.

"Still working on that," Coulson said briefly.

"Sir, I think I found something," Fitz said, his focus on the screen in front of him. "I was analyzing the footage taken on scene by one of the bystanders again and discovered this..." – he motioned to the monitors. It was paused at a segment depicting the images of the devastation caused to the street – "see here? It was just a fraction of a second but look at this..." – he pointed to the corner of the screen – "if I isolate _this_ image right here and enlarge it ..."

A tall figure, his face concealed in shadows, was on his knees next to the unmoving body of Skye.

Simmons gasped as the image came into focus. Everyone else was silent as they stared resolutely at the monitor, as the revelation of the identity of the man became clear.

"Is that - ?" Bobbi began, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Ward." Coulson clenched his fists so tightly the nails dug into the flesh of his palms. He shook his head and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I should've known..."

"Sir?" Hunter was concerned at the sudden change in the director's demeanour.

Coulson looked up at him vaguely before continuing. "He has been off the radar for months, since San Juan. I was hoping he was buried in the rubble of the theatre when it came down, along with the rest of the HYDRA scum. Wishful thinking. His twisted obsession with Skye knows no boundaries. That deluded son-of-a-bitch..."

"Does this mean – " Simmons began as the horror dawned on her.

"Yes," May said calmly, her cool exterior masking her anxiety as she voiced the reality for all of them. "Ward is back with HYDRA. And he has her."

* * *

><p>The first tendrils of sunlight were beginning to creep into the room when Skye's eyes fluttered open. True to his word, Ward was still in the chair beside the bed. He was asleep. She glanced over at him, noticing his closed eyes and deep even breathing. His posture was relaxed, his head leaning back against the wall and arms folded loosely across his chest.<p>

Propping herself up on her elbow, she took a moment just to watch him sleep. She realized she had never seen him in this vulnerable state before – he looked younger in repose, his usual serious expression lost in slumber. A single ray of light danced on his face, his dark lashes casting a shadow on his cheek. Giving in to temptation, she reached out with one hand, but paused before making contact.

_I shouldn't wake him._

She pulled her hand back, knowing somehow that he would stir with the slightest touch. Lifting back the covers, she slipped as quietly as she could out of the bed. She moaned as a sudden wave of nausea hit her. Gripping the edge of the mattress, she closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to subside before stumbling, on legs as wobbly as a newborn deer – and just as graceful, in the direction of the bathroom. He sensed her movement, and his eyes snapped open in an instant and focused immediately on her.

"Damn it," she mumbled, annoyed at herself. She gripped onto the side table for support. "I was trying not to wake you."

"You'd have to do better than that," he replied, running a hand over his face and around the back of his neck. "I've never been a deep sleeper. Comes with the territory."

She offered him a wry smile. "Got it, super-spy."

"So ... decided not to use the bottle, I take it?" Ward's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Geez, you think?" She laughed, in spite of the returning heaviness in her head and the unease she felt brewing in the pit of her stomach. She didn't feel right – she couldn't put her finger on it but something was wrong. And she needed the bathroom badly.

"Okay, let's go." Ward moved in close to her and without warning, lifted her up in his arms in one swift movement.

"Ward!" Skye squeaked in protest, taken aback by the ease with which he had - quite literally - swept her off her feet. "I can walk just fine!"

"No you can't," he replied, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth at the sight of her indignation. "You can barely stand up on your own. Quit being difficult about it. I carried you five blocks from the town centre back to the bar and up a flight of stairs to my flat above it without so much as a peep from you."

"Er, that was because I was unconscious at the time, remember?" She countered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Believe me, if I was awake, there would've been 'peeps'. Lots of them. All the way here."

"Just admit that you need me, rookie." His tone was teasing, mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, Agent Ward," she replied, fluttering her eyelashes at him coquettishly and clasping her hands together under her chin in mock demureness and helplessness. "What on earth would I do without you?"

He chuckled at her impression of a damsel in distress as he looked down at her face, taking in her sparkling chocolate coloured eyes and her sensuous mouth that was curved into a flirtatious smile. She threw her head back and laughed freely, giving in to the levity that the situation afforded them. In that moment, she really did feel as though the world outside didn't exist. No HYDRA, no SHIELD, no rampant super powers and their catastrophic consequences – there was just _now_ and the closeness of him - the earnest hope in his eyes, the safe haven of his arms and his seductive male scent filling her nostrils.

"Skye ..." His voice deepened at the utterance of her name. Anguish, longing, desire – all wrapped up in that one word.

Warmth engulfed her body and sparks fired through her veins as his powerful arms tightened around her. His face was just inches away from hers - she could feel his breath on her cheek and see the changing shades of brown in his eyes as he gazed down at her intently. He seemed rooted to the spot.

"Um ... Ward?" she spoke up quietly, breaking the spell. "I, er, really do need the bathroom pretty urgently."

He blinked, shaken from his trance by her words and walked briskly to the bathroom in a few long strides. After placing her gently back on her feet in front of the door, he took a small step back from her, his eyes never leaving her face. She took a deep breath and closed the gap between them again, taking him completely by surprise. Standing on her tiptoes and gripping his t-shirt to pull him down to meet her, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and held him in a fierce embrace.

"Thank you, Ward. Seriously," she whispered against his chest. She unclasped her arms from his neck and looked up with astonishment to see moisture in his eyes.

"Stop thanking me, Skye, " he said gently. He raised one hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking its softness. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

Tilting her chin up, he gazed searchingly into her eyes to gauge her reaction before bending his head down over hers. He brushed his lips ever so lightly over hers, sending a bolt of electricity up and down her spine. She pressed her small frame up against his muscular one, as he captured her mouth in a searing kiss that sent a tidal wave of emotions crashing over her. His hand that was resting on her hip slipped tentatively under her t-shirt and his fingers caressed the silky skin on her back. His touch left a trail of sizzling sensation along her flesh and she moaned as she felt the spark of arousal threaten to erupt into an all-encompassing wildfire.

Mimicking his action, she slid her hand under the front of his t-shirt and traced her fingers over the hard planes of his abdomen. A fevered grunt of approval escaped his lips as he continued his tantalizing assault on her mouth. Her hands glided languidly over his stomach and she savoured the feel of the hard contours of his muscles. Groaning with pleasure against her lips, he shivered as her deft fingers continued their exquisite journey across his taut skin. She paused when she reached his right flank - and stiffened in alarm at the unexpected transition of smoothness to rough scar tissue.

She had forgotten about his gunshot wounds. Wounds that _she _had given him. She was jolted back to reality in an instant.

_Stop. We have to stop now. _

The voice of reason in her head was harshly jarring as it cut through the soft moans he was making against her lips. She had to disengage – any further intimacy would make it close to impossible to leave him. With an effort, she pulled away from him first. She'd always have this, this memory of his mouth on hers, his body against hers, the frisson of yearning between them, on the brink of consummation.

"Skye ...?" Desire had darkened his eyes to the colour of coal, and his breath was ragged as he fought for composure.

"I, I... er, really need to use the bathroom," she offered weakly, as she noted the combination of confusion and disappointment flashing in his eyes at her sudden withdrawal from him.

Ward gazed at her quizzically for a minute, then cleared his throat and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Of course."

She smiled awkwardly and backed away from him into the bathroom. Closing the door softly, she sank back against it and closed her eyes for a moment. When her breathing steadied, she moved shakily towards the sink and looked up into the mirror. She groaned at the sight of her own reflection. A stranger stared back at her, the dark shadows under her eyes in stark contrast to the pallor in her cheeks.

_Oh god, I look like death._

Another wave of nausea coursed through her, and she staggered towards the toilet bowl and doubled up over it. She retched, arms wrapped around her midsection, as sweat began to accumulate on her forehead. Struggling against the dizziness, she gripped the side of the sink in an attempt to steady herself. The room began to spin, as her vision blurred.

"What's ... what's _happening_?" she half whispered, half groaned in agony as another spasm ripped through her core. Unable to fight it any longer, her legs gave way from under her and she collapsed with a thud to the floor.

"Skye?" He knocked brusquely on the door. "Is everything okay in there?"

He was met with silence. Anxiety flooded through him as he tried the door handle, almost ripping it off the hinges.

"Skye!" He was getting frantic with concern when she still didn't answer.

Cursing, he threw his full weight against the wood, grimacing as pain shot down his wounded arm from the impact. The frame splintered with a loud crack, and the door crashed into the side of the bathroom with enough force to bring down a few tiles from the wall. The sight of her sprawled body on the floor made his heart leap into his throat. He was on his knees next to her in an instant, scooping her up in his arms and holding her tightly against him. He felt her stir ever so slightly in response, and her breathing was low and laboured.

"Skye! Say something, please," Ward said urgently as he lightly shook her limp body. Her head lolled to the side with the movement and connected with his shoulder, the dampness from her skin leaving a dark patch on his shirt.

"It's okay ... It's going to be okay," he whispered to her, willing her to acknowledge him.

She mumbled something unintelligible into his shoulder before falling silent once again.

He stood up slowly with Skye cradled protectively in his arms and walked down the flight of stairs to the bar area. Placing her gently onto a row of seats, he ran behind the counter for his keys and firearm. He returned quickly to her still body, he lifted her back into his arms and made his way outside to his car. He opened the passenger door and placed her gently into the seat and fastened the seat belt securely around her.

As he made his way hastily around the car to the driver's side, he detected movement in the corner of his eye. His head jerked quickly in the direction of the activity and quickly raised his firearm.

His eyes widened as he registered who it was. "Coulson."

"You move and inch and you get a bullet between your eyes." Coulson had his weapon pointed at Ward's head. The director shot a quick glance at Skye's unmoving form in the passenger seat. His tone turned even icier. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing." Ward looked past the gun and straight into Coulson's eyes. He lowered his weapon hesitantly as he spoke. "I'm trying to help her. HYDRA was here. She's –"

Coulson laughed bitterly on hearing his words. "And you're _not_ HYDRA? Why would I believe you?"

"I am not back with HYDRA." Ward replied, enunciating every word slowly. The danger inherent in his former boss's accusation was very real. He had to proceed carefully. Raising one hand, palm towards Coulson, he tried to reason with him. "You have to trust me, Coulson. They shot her with something before I got there – I took care of one – _two_ – of them when I found her in the street."

_One HYDRA agent dead from a GSW to the head. _May's report from the debriefing came back to Coulson with a jolt. _Could he be telling the truth?_

Ward noticed the subtle change in Coulson's expression and continued, "I took her back to my flat. She's having a reaction to the dart. Listen, we're wasting time here. I need to take her to – "

Movement from within the car diverted Ward's attention. He broke off mid-sentence and instinctively turned in the direction of Skye, hands held out to her protectively. Her brown eyes were wide, though not completely focused, taking in the scene that was unfolding in front of her. _She's awake. She's okay. _His relief was short-lived.

With his eyes fixed firmly on hers, he felt a spasm rip though his body, the characteristic blue veins from the ICER cartridge spreading outwards from the point of contact across his chest and neck. The dendrotoxin worked its way swiftly through his system and he collapsed unconscious against the driver's side door within seconds.

Coulson whipped around to find Hunter running forward from his position a few yards away, ICER in hand, to look dispassionately at Ward's slumped body.

"Hunter!" Coulson was livid. "What the hell are you doing?"

Hunter was contrite. "Sorry sir. He moved. I thought he was trying something."

"I had it under control," Coulson snapped at him, his jaw clenched in anger. "If I needed your intervention, I would've – "

"No ..." A weak voice floated over to them from inside the car. Skye, roused by the commotion, had found the energy to free herself from the confines of the seat belt and pull herself towards the driver's side door, against which Ward was slumped. She reached through the open window and grasped his hair. "No... Ward ... No..."

The earth under their feet began to tremble as Skye's anguish intensified. Alarmed, Coulson and Hunter tried to keep their balance as the concrete beneath them undulated in slow waves.

"Skye!" In his panic, Hunter aimed his weapon in her direction. "What the hell – ?"

"Put the ICER down, Hunter," Coulson ordered. Losing his footing, he dropped to one knee and directed his attention to Skye. He tried to keep the rising fear out of his voice when he spoke. "Skye, listen to me. It's going to be okay. We're here to help you. Just calm down ... "

The rolling waves of concrete stilled fractionally at his reassuring words.

"Coulson, don't kill him. Please," she managed with all the remaining strength she could muster. She did this, caused all of this chaos. She had to make it right before she passed out again. Her surroundings were spinning around her again as she felt her feeble grasp on consciousness slacken. "Ward ... he saved me. From HYDRA."

A look passed between Coulson and Hunter, their eyes widened at her proclamation.

"Promise me you won't ..." She slumped back into the seat, the rest of her sentence remaining unspoken as blackness filled her vision and she succumbed once again to oblivion.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Many thanks to Llwydyn for her beta awesomeness in the first scene - you, my dear friend, are invaluable to me! Any mistakes/inaccuracies/general not-quite-rightness with the SkyeWard steamy shenanigans were all on me. ;) Thanks for reading! Cheers! :)


	10. Chapter 10

Consciousness returned to Skye in the subtle form of a jackhammer crew working a construction site in her head. Wincing, she attempted to raise one hand to her face, to find it covered in a jumble of wires and leads, all connected to various machines in the room. The relentless thumping in her temples pulsed in tempo with the steady _beep beep beep_ of the heart rate monitor beside the cot on which she lay. As far as she could tell, she was alone, attached to variety of IV drips, pumps and machines monitoring her vitals. Her eyelids felt like stone as she tried to open them, the effort making her groan imperceptibly.

"Hey you," A familiar female voice cut through the din from the demolition team in her brain. "We were wondering when you'd wake up. You were out for quite some time. Got us all very worried, to say the least."

Skye blinked before focusing on the face that had appeared in front of her. Simmons smiled down at the young hacker, hugging her tablet in her crossed arms.

"Jemma," she managed weakly. "Am I ...?"

"You're safe now, Skye. Back at the Playground," Simmons said, reassuringly. Skye could tell, even through the fogginess in her head, that she was making an effort to keep the cheeriness in her voice as natural-sounding as possible. "We'll take good care of you, don't you fret."

"Jemma," she said weakly, a mixture of relief and guilt washing over her as she gazed her friend again. She wasn't sure how to explain why she had left so suddenly. "I just want to say I'm sorry. For leaving without telling anyone..."

"Shh ... it's all right. Don't worry about it now," Simmons said gently. "I know you had your reasons. Let's focus on getting you well again, okay?"

Skye nodded as Simmons helped her sit upright in the cot, propping a pillow behind her back.

"Now, it appears you are having a reaction to the dart you were shot with," Simmons began in her usual pragmatic manner, as her fingers moved efficiently across the screen of her tablet. "I'm waiting for the results of some tests that I ran while you were unconscious. Maybe if you're feeling up for it, we can run over some of your symptoms so that I can get a better idea of what we're dealing with here. How does that sound?"

"Yeah." Skye replied wearily, grimacing slightly at the prevailing queasiness and disorientation she couldn't quite shake. "That sounds good. I'm so over feeling like this. Not fun."

They were a few questions into Simmons' methodical checklist before Skye remembered, in a flash of random images, the events before she passed out in the car – Coulson aiming his gun at Ward. Hunter stepping forward, ICER in hand. The rolling concrete. Ward's slumped body next to the car.

"And what was the last thing you remember before you –" Simmons began, concentrating on entering the Skye's data accurately into her notes.

"Wait, Jemma ..." Skye interrupted her mid-question. Panic was clear in her voice. "Ward ... Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Right ... Ward," Simmons said hesitantly, avoiding Skye's intense gaze. "I believe he's recovering from the effects of the ICER as we speak."

"Where is he?" Skye repeated her question slowly, her voice rising with alarm. Her eyes widened when she realized the possibility of what may have happened. "Coulson ... he didn't ... he didn't leave him behind, did he?"

"No, no, of course not," Simmons reassured her, awkwardly patting her hand. "We brought him back with you. But ... we thought it would be best to put him back in Vault D. Just until we're confident that he doesn't pose a threat or have any ulterior motives ..."

_Oh god. I got him locked up again. My fault. Everything is my fault._

"Get him out of there, Jemma!" Sudden fury, exacerbated by guilt and frustration, overwhelmed her as she realized what she had gotten him into. "He doesn't deserve to be locked up again. He did nothing wrong! _I_ went looking for _him_. I sought him out. I want him here with me. Now."

Simmons recoiled in horror at Skye's sudden transformation, taking in the dilated pupils and the murderous instability that flashed dangerously in her eyes. The heart rate monitor's steady beeping increased to a fevered tempo as Skye's pulse raced out of control.

A tremor swept through the room and Simmons gasped, watching with rising panic as glass beakers and various other medical supplies began to dance rhythmically on the shelves. One of the jars, filled with a clear liquid, teetered over the edge and shattered to pieces on the floor, spraying its contents across the white tiles of the infirmary.

"Skye ... please ..." Simmons gasped as she backed away from her slowly, clutching the tablet in front of her like a shield. She pleaded with Skye to stay calm. "Don't do this!"

Seeing the abject fear shining in her friend's eyes, Skye felt the rage drain away as swiftly as it came. Shocked at her loss of control, Skye gazed, wide-eyed at Simmons and shook her head apologetically. "Oh god ... I'm so sorry, Jemma. I don't know what came over me."

Simmons released the breath of air that she was holding in her lungs and forced a smile. "It's okay, Skye. It's ... it's not your fault. You're under a lot of strain. I, er... I can understand that."

"You've always been a terrible liar," Skye said quietly, avoiding her eyes.

Simmons was silent at her words, her reticence confirming Skye's suspicions.

_She thinks I'm a monster. Maybe I am._

"Ward... he saved me, Jemma," Skye said wearily as she sank back into the pillow. "He didn't have to, but he did."

"So you tracked him down?" Simmons tried to keep her voice neutral, in spite of her disappointment. She was unable to comprehend Skye's motives for doing such a thing. It was inconceivable to her that Skye would have forgotten his betrayal, his heinous actions in the past. Her attempt at applying logic and rationality to the conundrum failed. She could not wrap her head around how Skye could possibly think she was safer with him than with them.

"Yes," Skye replied simply. Looking straight into her friend's eyes, and registering the hurt and dismay in them, she continued, "I didn't think anyone else would understand. What I'm going through. Especially after what happened - _what I did_ - to Bobbi. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore," – Skye's eyes filled with tears as she explained – "but now I've gone and hurt him too. I've ruined everything. I shouldn't ... "

Skye eyelids fluttered as she trailed off, leaving the rest of her sentence unvoiced. Her eyes snapped shut abruptly before the familiar, inevitable blackness blanketed her consciousness once again.

"Oh Skye ..." Jemma moved close and put her hand on her shoulder to comfort her. She frowned as she felt Skye's body stiffen under her touch. "It will be all ri –"

A deep animalistic groan escaped Skye's lips before a convulsion ripped through her body like an electric current. Pulling back in shock, Simmons watched as Skye's eyes rolled back in her head and her limbs jerked violently on the bed. Her forearm connected with a nearby tray containing medical supplies and sent it crashing to the floor.

"Somebody! I need help in here!" Simmons yelled as she reached frantically for a syringe.

* * *

><p>"How many times do I have to go over it? I've told you all I know," Ward said, bristling with frustration. He stared resolutely at the man across from him, with his forearms resting on the table between them. His hands – bound securely with heavy steel restraints – were tightly clenched. "When can I see her?"<p>

They were in an interrogation room, the harsh lighting hurting his sensitive eyes. Ward blinked as he fought to shake the residual haziness that was clouding his thought processes. Unsure of how much time had passed since the confrontation outside of his bar, he had woken up from the effects of the ICER with a heavy feeling in his head coupled with a mild sense of disorientation and nausea. Registering vaguely that he was locked up in his old cell in the basement to recover, he had gazed up at the familiar ceiling in the dimness, part of him wondering if the whole thing was a figment of his imagination. Or that maybe he was just destined to relive the same endless loop of hell tailored just for him; his penance to pay for all the sins he had committed in his lifetime – Skye wanting him ... rejecting him ... wanting him ... SHIELD as an ally ... as a foe ... as an ally ... his life as a prisoner ... as a free man ... a prisoner once more.

He had barely regained consciousness when he was pulled roughly to his feet by the cocky Englishman whose name he didn't recall and hauled unceremoniously up the stairs from his cell, a gun pointed at his side, to one of the interrogation rooms.

"I just want to be sure we didn't miss anything." Coulson was calm as he met Ward's eyes levelly. "Tell me again and I'll consider letting you see Skye. How did HYDRA find her?"

"I told you, I don't know!" Ward was beginning to lose it. He took a deep breath and desperately tried to rein in his emotions. "I had no idea they were on to her. Look, this is what happened - she came to my bar and I sent her away. The HYDRA acquisition team must've gotten to her after she left. I heard the commotion in the street and found her later. She'd already passed out on the street by then. I dealt with two of them before they could take her."

"You didn't think to ask how they found her?" Coulson said, doubt resonating in his tone. It was clear he still didn't believe that Ward was telling him everything.

"No." Ward sighed. "I took one out with a bullet to the head. And sent the other one back to headquarters to tell them that they can never have her."

Coulson sat quietly in contemplation at his words. Judging from the look in the director's eyes, Ward had the feeling that the man was torn between wanting to shoot him right then and there or thanking him for foiling HYDRA's plan to capture Skye.

"Sir?" There was light tapping on the door before a statuesque blond woman, one arm in a sling, stepped into the room. Ward remembered her from their meeting on the bus in Atlanta when he was on the run, a lifetime ago.

"You again," Ward said, a mocking smile forming on his lips as he glanced at her. He couldn't help himself from pointing out her blunder from their failed mission to recapture him. "How's your book? Still on page 117?"

The golden-haired amazon turned her piercing blue eyes on him, treating him to a death glare that would unnerve the most hardened of prisoners on the receiving end of her interrogation tactics. Ward didn't flinch under the severity of her gaze.

Displaying significant restraint by choosing not to respond to his provocation, she redirected her attention to Coulson and said, "Simmons needs to see you. There's been an incident in the infirmary. It's urgent."

Ward was on his feet in an instant, all bravado dissipating. "Skye... Is she –"

"Sit down, Ward," Coulson said to him levelly, doing his best to hide his concern at the cryptic message. He turned to the agent. "Agent Morse. Keep an eye on him until I get back."

"Simmons said to bring him, sir." Bobbi glanced at Ward again briefly, her features settling into a mild look of disdain.

Coulson looked at her quizzically, waiting for her to elaborate, but she only shrugged. "She didn't say why."

"Okay, let's go," Coulson said resignedly as he put a firm hand on Ward's arm. "And I don't think I need to remind you that if you try anything ..."

"I'm not stupid, Coulson," Ward snapped at him bitterly. "I won't. I just want to see her."

The trio walked briskly in the direction of the infirmary, their presence drawing inquisitive glances from the various support staff as they passed them in the hallways of the Playground.

"She had a tonic-clonic seizure." Simmons turned to address them as they entered the room. She cast a worried look back over at the unconscious woman. "I administered 10cc's of benzodiazapine and she's stabilized, for now."

Upon entering the room, Ward had stepped immediately beside the cot and stared down at Skye's pale face, his expression grim. The sense of déjà vu was paralyzing as he thought of the last time she was lying in a similar cot, teetering on the edge between life and death after having sustained two gunshot wounds to the stomach. The helplessness he felt now was as incapacitating as it had been then. Overcome with the need to punch something, he balled his hands into fists as he wrestled with his escalating rage. He needed the enemy to be something he could shoot or at the very least, beat to a pulp. He was utterly powerless to help her and it was driving him mad.

"Have you determined exactly what's wrong with her?" Coulson asked the scientist, concern creasing his forehead as he joined Ward next to the cot.

"I ran a full diagnostic evaluation on her, including blood chemistry profiles, conducted liver and thyroid function tests, ran an EEG, MRI and CT," – Simmons shook her head and sighed heavily before continuing – "and I'm still unable to determine the exact cause of her deterioration. Her biology is unique. It appears that the, er... _incident_ in San Juan has altered her physiology on a cellular level. I've compared blood samples from what I had of hers on file to one I took earlier today and there is a significant disparity in her DNA – "

"Let me interrupt you there, Simmons," Coulson said hesitantly. "What are you getting at?"

"We all knew she was _special_ before. The terms '0-8-4' and 'alien' were brandished about in an almost frivolous manner. But now ... It can be confirmed that she's indeed not even categorically human anymore, sir," Simmons replied quietly, glancing at Skye's still body. "So any attempts at a diagnosis or prognosis, for that matter, may prove to be problematic."

"What do you mean, Simmons?" Coulson said, flinching at the bluntness of her words. "She's still human –"

"Not in the strictest sense of the word, she isn't. Not fully, anyway." Simmons struggled to think of the words in layman's terms. "Whatever happened to her in that temple ... changed her. Mutated her genes. She's just ... different now."

Ward had been gripping the rails on the side of Skye's cot, silently taking in what Simmons was saying. He did his best to hide the frustration in his voice. "Can you help her or not?"

Taking a breath, Simmons continued, "Well, it is clear that she is having some sort of anaphylatic reaction to the tranquilizer dart," – she paused to cast a sidelong glance at Ward – "and I can be fairly certain that we're dealing with not just one but a veritable _cocktail_ of drugs. I'm waiting for the results from the toxicology report to confirm my suspicions but that would explain her myriad of conflicting symptoms – nausea, vomiting, fever, syncopal episodes, seizures, violent outbursts. There is not one simple solution – I need to isolate each drug or toxin and deal with it separately. Some may be difficult to trace, even with a comprehensive analysis of her blood. And that will take time. Whatever HYDRA put in that diabolical concoction ... the complexity of it is astounding. But not having access to the ampoule containing the serum itself to run any further tests, I'm unable to confidently ascertain the exact components of the poison used on her. All I can say for certain is that the chemicals are attacking her cells and spreading like a virus. Her immune system is fighting it but she is growing weaker by the hour. She doesn't appear to – "

"Why are the hell are you still talking? Do your job and ... just _fix_ it." Ward's patience for Simmons' scientific jargon was wearing thin, and his desperation caused him to lash out at the scientist. He regretted his acerbic tone and choice of words as soon as they left his mouth. Startled by his sudden interruption, Simmons turned sharply to face him.

"You haven't any right to speak to me like that." Simmons was furious at Ward's outburst, vivid colour rising in her cheeks. She held her head high in defiance, refusing to be intimidated by him. "I don't care what Skye said, you're still a murderer, a traitor ..."

"Speaking of which, why are we letting him in here anyway?" Bobbi asked, stepping between them and casting Ward a barely concealed look of contempt.

"Good point, Agent Morse," Couson said tersely, glaring at Ward. He was as displeased as Simmons was with his tirade and was on the verge of ordering him to be sent back to the dungeon where he belonged. He raised an eyebrow at the scientist. "Simmons?"

"Skye regained consciousness briefly while I was performing some tests." Simmons explained warily, exchanging looks with her teammate and superior as she continued. "She specifically asked for _him_," – she waved a hand at Ward and swallowed, refusing to make eye contact – "before she passed out again. She was very adamant about it. I was afraid that if she woke up again and found that her request was not fulfilled, then ..."

Struggling to keep the trembling from her hands to a minimum, she gestured to the fallen medical instruments and several smashed glass beakers on the floor.

She shook her head as she continued. "She's becoming increasingly volatile, sir. I've never seen her like that before. The look in her eyes ... it was frightening. Her elevated aggression and loss of self-control can most probably be attributed to the effects of the drugs in her system, causing some sort of chemical imbalance leading to behavioural changes. There was a significant spike in her adrenaline levels during her ... episode. Stress may be a trigger. _This_," – she paused and motioned around the room again – "was caused immediately after I told her that we locked him up in the basement again. She demanded that we release him at once before she had the seizure."

Ward felt an irrational sense of comfort in her words, and a calmness settled over him, in spite of the chaos. _She needs me. That's all that matters. _

"She lost control again, why am I not surprised," Bobbi muttered under her breath, her eyes wandering over to the pieces of shattered glass and spreading pool of liquid on the floor, before focusing on Skye again.

Coulson finally came to a decision. He spoke quietly but firmly. "Under the circumstances, I think it's best that we put her into isolation in the Cage immediately, before she regains consciousness. While we work on finding a solution. For everyone's safety," – he paused briefly, then added, almost as an afterthought – "and her own."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Once again I owe my gratitude to Llwydyn - this time for going well beyond the call of duty by offering some insight to help me resolve some plot issues I've been having. That said, any toxicological/medical inaccuracies in this chapter are completely my own doing! Thanks for reading! Cheers :)


	11. Chapter 11

It was becoming a routine for her – waking up confused, in a different location after passing out. A deeply unsettling routine, a grueling ritual of having to fight through the thick fog that had descended in her brain while she was sleeping to work out where the hell she was – this time. Skye blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room, and the walls slowly came into focus.

Despite noticing vaguely that she was still attached to a number of machines monitoring her vitals, it didn't take her long at all to discover that she was no longer lying on a cot in the infirmary. Gazing around at the gun-metal grey hexagonal tiles that surrounded her from floor to ceiling, she realized with an odd mixture of mild alarm and weary acceptance where they had transferred her.

Not that it was a huge surprise, as she recalled her last encounter with Simmons during her previous brief spell of consciousness – the sudden surge of rage that had eclipsed all reason, the ensuing vibrations that had bubbled up from a growing pit of resentment inside her, the resulting inevitable mayhem. She had scared herself at how easily she had lost control. The terrified look on Simmons' face as she reacted to her display of destruction had been yet another addition to the collection of images she stored away in the hard drive of her subconscious, under the folder 'After the Change', in a file named 'Fear – Jemma'.

So all things considered, she supposed she couldn't blame them for locking her up in here; it was the safest option for everyone, given her recent turbulent mood swings.

She was acutely aware that she was not alone and her gaze wandered to the sleeping man on the fold-out bed opposite her. So they did what she asked – they had released Ward from Vault D. She felt relieved at that, although she couldn't shake the feeling of unease when she thought back to the way in which she had 'asked' for his presence. She hadn't meant for her request to sound so much like a threat at the time.

_Let him out. Or else._

She may as well have said those exact words. She sighed. She felt impotent in almost every aspect of her life right now – over her escalating powers, her own wellbeing, her uncertain future – but at least she had some control over his current 'lodgings' – she hated to use the word 'confinement' – at SHIELD so that he didn't have to suffer the humiliation of being locked up in the basement again. Although, she wasn't sure if being holed up here with her was much of an improvement on that predicament.

So this was his reward for helping her. He had risked his freedom and his second chance at a normal life to save her from HYDRA's clutches and what did he get in return? Another stint in a cell. Clearly he got the short end of the stick. She felt guilt rising up in her again and ruthlessly pushed it deep down before it could consume her. She was determined not to spend any more time wallowing in self-pity; she would simply focus on getting better, get the both of them out, and make sure everyone was out of harm's way. Ward included – eventually.

Her attention drifted over to him again. A well-worn paperback was resting on his chest, rising and falling in keeping with his steady breathing. She was curious as she glanced at the title – _The Cobra Event by Richard Preston_ – and noticed that the edges of the book were stained with a dark reddish brown. Like dried blood. Old blood...

_You fold a piece of paper just right, it gets sharp. _

The bile rose in her throat as she recalled his words from his previous time in SHIELD confinement, his admission of self-harm and worse yet, her insensitive reaction upon learning of it. Her imagination quickly conjured up unwelcome images – flashes of him tearing the pages out of the book in despair, shaping them like a morbid form of origami into makeshift blades before sliding them across his wrists, his thick red blood pouring out from his veins and pooling on the cold grey floor ... She shuddered as she fought to shake the gruesome visions from her mind. He had said that he came out of the ordeal clear-headed. Focused. He had survived, had overcome his despair, had moved beyond his desperation to be here with her now. For that she was grateful. She wondered if she had the fortitude to do to defeat her demons too, if it ever came to that.

Swallowing a lump that had formed at the back of her throat, she tore her gaze from Ward and took another look around her. The Cage. Built to withstand potential threats of the highest level – Asgardians, extra-dimensional attacks, probably even nuclear blasts, if Fitz had anything to do with its construction. A cuboid fortress designed to keep hazards contained, or external hostile forces out. Currently housing an unstable gifted with the power of destruction at her fingertips and her former S.O. and would-be protector with the rage of a Berserker still lurking inside him.

_Two monsters in a cage._

He mumbled something in his sleep – it was barely audible but the keening lilt in his tone made Skye turn her full attention to him. She couldn't make out what he was saying – it sounded vaguely Russian – but by the strained look on his face that accompanied the utterance, he wasn't dreaming about fluffy bunnies or even ferocious ones. A strangled whimper escaped his lips and his entire body tensed. The slight movement caused the book that was lying on his chest to slide off his body and land with a soft thud on the floor. The sound was magnified as it reverberated off the walls of the Cage, and Ward's eyes snapped open as he was pulled abruptly from his slumber. She watched as he shook his head slowly and wiped a slightly trembling hand down his face.

"Hey you," she called out to him softly. "I didn't wake the Super Spy this time. I'm learning," she said, as she cast him a mischievous smile. Her expression turned serious as she noticed his laboured breathing. "Bad dream?"

His eyes – darkened to the colour of obsidian – focused on her and for a fraction of a second she caught a glimpse of the caged, tortured beast within his soul. And then, just as quickly, the illusion was gone. He managed a weak smile, one that held little mirth.

"Yeah, you could say that."

Shaking his head again to free himself of the remaining cobwebs of his dream, he promptly composed himself and stowed away the darkness that had temporarily escaped its confinement from the depths of his being. He refocused the attention to her. Standing up slowly, he walked over to stand beside the cot.

He swept the bangs gently from her forehead as he looked down at her still pale face. "So... How are you feeling?"

"Better," Skye answered, cautiously, wondering whether it was a good idea to ask him about his nightmare and the cause of his distress. A dark brooding glint in his eyes confirmed that it was not a topic he wished to discuss at this point in time. She reached up to touch his hand that was lightly stroking her cheek. "So ... um, how long have I been out?"

"Three days," Ward replied, watching her expression carefully. "Do you know where we are?"

"Sure I do," Skye commented wryly. "How could I forget this metal beehive?" – she gestured to the chrome honeycomb patterned walls that surrounded them – "Do you suppose that if I'm going to be locked in here for god knows how long, then I should be treated like a queen bee?"

His lips quirked at her quip. "Glad to hear that your snark has made a full recovery."

She winked at him playfully. "There's no poison on earth that can weaken that."

"I don't doubt that." He laughed as he raked a hand through his tousled hair, and she noticed the thin metal band encircling his wrist.

"Hey, what's that?" she asked, her brows furrowed as she gestured to the bracelet.

"This?" He raised his left wrist out in front of him. "Yeah ... Coulson insisted. A tradeoff for being allowed to stay in here."

"It looks like the one they put on me ... after what happened with Miles..." Skye noted thoughtfully.

"Yeah, not quite. Instead of limiting my access to electronic devices like yours did, this one – a modified Night-Night bracelet – will inject a large dose of dendrotoxin straight into my bloodstream and stop my heart in seconds, apparently. At the press of a button... 'if I so much as breathe wrong'." He did a fairly passable imitation of Fitz, a rueful smile playing on his lips. He processed the concerned look on her face before he continued. "It's okay. It's a small price to pay. To be here with you."

* * *

><p>Coulson stood silently, with arms folded and a pensive expression playing on his features, as he watched the exchange between Skye and Ward on the monitor in front of him. Sensing May's presence behind him, he pressed the mute button before turning to face her.<p>

"You still think that's a good idea?" she said quietly, nodding in the direction of the screen. The deep still calmness of her voice remained a welcome sanctuary from the madness that seemed to have seeped into every aspect of life since the events of San Juan. "Allowing Ward to be in there with her?"

Coulson sighed. "What other options do we have? Skye may not be completely lucid yet but she's made it clear what she wants. For now. I can't risk doing anything that would make her feel any more alienated than she already does. She needs to feel safe. And for whatever reason, Ward does that for her right now, and not us. I don't like it but it's not about what I want. Believe me, nothing would give me more pleasure than to lock that son-of-a-bitch back in Vault D but that's not the best plan at the moment."

"You're not the only one who doesn't like it." May's tone took on a distinctly hard edge. "He's poison, Phil. Arguably worse than what HYDRA used on her. And in her vulnerable state, she's even more susceptible to his manipulations..."

"There's nothing else we can do about it, given the circumstances." Coulson was firm. "Maybe when we cure her of whatever HYDRA has running through her veins, she'll realize it too. And then, and only then will we deal with him accordingly."

"Maybe I'd feel better about it if you let me fracture his larynx again," May said, humorlessly. "That way he can't fill her head with more lies."

Simmons walked into the room before Coulson could reply to May's quip. He was grateful for the intervention.

"Any developments?" He turned to the diminutive scientist.

"Yes sir." Simmons dispensed with the pleasantries and launched straight into her findings. "From the results from the mass spectroscopy, I've managed to isolate three of the components in her bloodstream – dendrotoxin, ricin and methylxanthines – and have administered the necessary drugs to counteract those. Her vitals are stable and the majority of her symptoms – nausea, vomiting, fever – have been alleviated. There have been no more seizures or other ... _episodes_ since the infirmary."

"That's good news, right?" Coulson was confused by the worried look on Simmons' face. "Or is there something you're not telling me?"

"Skye may be exhibiting all the signs of recovery for now. But I'm reluctant to clear her just yet." Simmons paused, a frown fixed on her features. "Sir, there is still something unaccounted for in the toxicology report. I am concerned with the relatively high concentration of antibodies in her system. I haven't yet been able to determine the exact antigen that has triggered this response. It appears that HYDRA may have used an experimental, genetically modified and highly potent form of neurotoxin with which I am as yet unfamiliar."

An uncomfortable silence settled on Coulson and May as they took in the information.

"Are we talking about a bio-weapon here?" Coulson said, his forehead creased in consternation.

"Possibly. Or perhaps one used specifically for the acquisition of gifteds. To subdue them," Simmons continued, doing her best to keep her voice level. "I have a theory as to HYDRA's plan; their _modus operandi_, if you will. Whatever chemical cocktail in the dart that was used on Skye contained a tranquillizer or paralytic – a dose of dendrotoxin – for the initial immobilization of the target and something else that has a latent effect – something designed to be lethal – in case the said target, for whatever reason, is unable to be acquired."

"What you're saying is ..." Coulson prompted when Simmons' pause stretched to a full minute as she stared resolutely at Skye via the live feed from the Cage.

"I theorize two possibilities," she quickly continued, shaken from her momentary lapse of concentration. "Scenario one: the target is incapacitated with the dart, brought in while unconscious, is administered the antidote to the poison, is then brainwashed or subjected to whatever other ghastly plans HYDRA has to make them comply, and then added to the legion of mindless HYDRA soldiers. Scenario two: Target is incapacitated, but," – she paused again and took a breath before continuing – "if the target evades capture, then the poison will do its job without the need for further intervention from HYDRA... It's a fail-safe measure – that way they are ensured that if the target is not captured... "

Coulson finished her sentence for her. "Then the target is cancelled."

"Exactly," Simmons confirmed quietly. "Without the antitoxin, even taking into account variables such as the general health of the target, it's still just a matter of time... before..." She hesitated, unable to vocalize her fears.

As if on cue, Simmons' tablet monitoring Skye's vitals began emitting a litany of frantic beeping. They looked up at the monitor to see Ward, one arm gesticulating frantically at the camera, the other wrapped around Skye, trying desperately to keep her from falling off the cot. She was doubled over, her body in the throes of what appeared to be a violent coughing fit. They watched, unified in horror, as the force of Skye's gasping spasms caused blood to spray onto one of the walls, coating it in a smattering of bright red droplets that glistened ominously in the muted luminescence of the Cage.


	12. Chapter 12

"_There must be something we can do, Simmons." Coulson urged the scientist, the desperation in his voice intensifying with each word. "This can't be it. I won't accept that."_

"_I don't know what else I can say, sir." Simmons voice hitched and she looked dangerously close to tears. "If we don't administer an antitoxin quickly ... "_

"_Can't it be synthesized? This antitoxin?"_

"_That takes time. Time that Skye does not have. She's in multiple organ failure. At this rate of deterioration, she has twenty-four hours... At most."_

If anyone had told Ward a month ago that he would be working alongside SHIELD again on a mission to infiltrate a highly secure HYDRA laboratory, he would've easily written them off as being certifiable. There was no way in hell – he had well and truly left that life behind. For good. He had his bar, a new shot at a normal life, had made some headway in conquering his demons; he was _free_.

Yet here he was in specialist mode once more, breathing in the acrid smell of gunfire, his senses on high alert as he fought his way through the barrage of HYDRA soldiers.

He had formed an uneasy alliance with members of an organization he had once betrayed and turned his back on, launching an attack on another that he had also deceived and abandoned. All in an attempt – one rife with risk and uncertainty – to save the life of a girl who had shot him four times while he was unarmed. After he had all but declared his love for her. The surreal insanity of the situation was not lost on him.

"_She said she was feeling better," Ward had said, not twelve hours ago, in a barely audible monotone to the others in the Cage after they had come running. "She _was_ better. We were joking, laughing ... Before ... before this ... " He could hear the anguish in his own voice as it trailed off. He stared blankly at the flecks of drying blood – her blood – on his trembling hands. _

The sound of a door being blasted open snapped his attention swiftly back to the present. He eyed the two SHIELD agents next to him cautiously. He was fairly certain that they, under any other circumstances, were as likely to shoot him as to have his back. Yes, he was quite sure that they would not hesitate to put a bullet in his brain as they would any other HYDRA drone, if it wasn't for Skye. With the exception of May, he barely knew them at all – the smug English mercenary and the no-nonsense blond amazon – and trusted them even less, yet the dire circumstances had offered few acceptable alternatives. Their combined disdain and contempt for him was palpable. But ... Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Desperation. There was no other word to describe his current state of mind and situation he found himself in – he was so desperate, it would seem, that he was more than willing to overlook the undercurrent of distrust that simmered between them and had consented to being tagged like an animal – not that he would've had that much of a choice in the matter. He rubbed the tender spot on his upper thigh where Fitz had shot him with a Tag Round back at SHIELD headquarters before making their way to the HYDRA research facility. He felt like a dog that had just been microchipped. _As a safety precaution,_ Coulson had said. For whose safety, he wasn't entirely sure of.

He had carefully stored the resentment alongside the rage that had permanent residence in the deep recesses of his being. After all, he figured that he was fortunate that Coulson had decided that he would be put to better use as part of the mission to retrieve the antitoxin than being locked up in Vault D, after Skye's sudden decline.

"_Massive haemoptysis ... hemodynamic compromise ... airway constriction ... hypoxic at a cellular level ... requiring intubation..."_

His mind had vaguely registered the various individual medical terms that came out of Simmons' mouth in a torrent of maddening, barely comprehensible jargon. He recalled numbly turning his attention from his blood speckled hands to stare at the fine spray of crimson on the dark grey walls of the Cage as Simmons continued with her diagnosis of Skye. The pattern that coated the hexagonal tiles was like a garish depiction of surrealist modern art.

"_The massive haemoptysis," – she had paused as she noticed the vacant looks around her, then adjusted her vernacular accordingly – "the coughing up of blood has compromised her airway. She can't breathe on her own."_

Fragments of the frantic exchange from earlier echoed in his head at random intervals. His last image of her before preparing to leave on the quinjet was seared into his brain – she looked so vulnerable, so fragile – covered in a myriad of tubes and wires, and a machine doing her breathing for her.

_Twenty-four hours. At the most._

"Snap out of it, mate," Hunter said abruptly, as he quickly dispatched a HYDRA soldier immediately to Ward's right. "Or you'll get us all killed."

Ward chastised himself for his momentary lack of focus, and hastily compartmentalized his anxiety over Skye's condition. They could not afford to come out of this mission empty-handed. There was too much at stake; failure was simply not an option. The trio swiftly made their way to the fourth floor – intel that was gleaned from Simmons' previous undercover assignment pinpointed the north-west wing of the building as being the location of the Bioweapon Research and Development Division – cutting through an onslaught of HYDRA defenses in the process. They paused outside the glass doors of the laboratory.

"Bobbi and I will hold them off," Hunter said, casting Ward a sidelong glance. "Get in there and get it. And make it snappy, yeah?"

Nodding curtly, Ward swiped the security access card he had taken from a fallen HYDRA agent and made his way across the room, taking in the shocked looks on the scientists' faces as they stared at the armed intruder from their hiding places underneath their work stations.

"You." Ward's voice was icy as he addressed a cowering man in a white lab coat. The scientist was on his knees, beside another man, the both of them crouching behind a workbench for cover. _Roberts_ was on his name tag. "You have twenty seconds to hand over the antitoxin for the dart you've been using on gifteds."

The man stared, mouth agape at Ward's gun aimed between his eyes. "I, I don't know what you mean."

Anticipating Roberts' response to his request, Ward fired a round into his colleague's lower leg. The man howled pitifully as he clutched his wound. Ward refocused his attention to Roberts, his expression grim.

"I could shoot _you_, but I need you mobile... and lucid." Ward voice remained oddly calm amidst the chaos going on around them. "Fifteen seconds."

"Okay! All the specimens are stored in _there_." Roberts gestured nervously to a locked vault with an electronic keypad access on the door.

Ward dragged the man roughly to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the stainless steel doors of the cooling unit. Roberts stumbled to the keypad and hastily punched in the code. The door opened with a soft beep, letting out a small puff of cold air. He scuttled hastily to the fridge and retrieved a container containing a number of darts and vials and thrust them at Ward.

"Here, this is it. All of it." Roberts voice was strained under the pressure.

Ward eyed the specimens the man offered him. "This is the one used to capture gifteds? You're sure?"

Roberts nodded earnestly. "Yes, that's it for sure ..."

Ward took one of the darts out of the container they were stored in and promptly injected the contents of one into the man's upper arm.

"What... what are you doing?" Roberts was wide-eyed in disbelief, grasping at the dart embedded in his flesh with a trembling hand as he slumped to the floor.

"Making sure," Ward replied coolly, assessing the man's reaction.

Roberts continued to gape open-mouthed at the Ward. "That wasn't necessary! I'm telling you the truth!" He spluttered.

"We'll see." Ward casually stepped over the man and headed towards the door.

"Wait!" Roberts called out to Ward anxiously from his prone position. "You can't just leave me ... you took ... you took all the ... the..."

Ward turned back to Roberts and crouched down so that they were eye to eye. He waved the vial containing the supposed antitoxin in front of the man's nose. "You want this?"

Roberts nodded silently, eyes wide with fear as the sweat that had broken out on his forehead began to drip down the side of his face in rivulets.

Satisfied that the man wasn't lying, Ward filled the syringe with the clear liquid and promptly jabbed the hapless man in the leg with it. His mouth twisted into a bitter smile as he watched Roberts cry out in pain from the puncture. Ward felt not one ounce of pity for the man. He was, along with the other lab coats, directly responsible for Skye's current condition. He felt the fury rising up inside him again, as his last image of Skye flittered across his consciousness. _HYDRA scum._

"Ward!" Bobbi's voice barked at him through his earpiece. "Are you done? We need to get out of here."

He didn't bother to reply but stepped out of the cold storage unit and back into the room, leaving Roberts lying on the floor. Aside from the shivering, he seemed to be fine, and the look of unmistakable relief on the scientist's face was a good enough of a guarantee for Ward that he was given the real deal to counteract the poison. He slipped the vials of antitoxin inside his kevlar vest for safekeeping.

"I have it," Ward said brusquely. "Let's get back to the quinjet."

They dodged a few more assailants before meeting up with Hunter in the hallway.

"Damn it. The bastards sent reinforcements." Hunter dodged as a bullet went flying past his right shoulder. "We can't hold them back for too much longer. We're outnumbered here."

"Then let's get the hell out," Ward said, his jaw clenched.

Hunter spoke into the comms. "May, we're ready for extraction."

"Roger that," May replied. "Make your way to the retrieval point."

They hurried to the stairway to the rooftop where May awaited their arrival with the quinjet. As they turned the corner, they were confronted by a team of six heavily armed HYDRA foot soldiers.

"Bloody hell," Hunter muttered under his breath, before ducking back quickly behind the wall as they were met with a flurry of gunfire. The bullets peppered the nearby wall as they maneuvered themselves deftly back behind the corner for cover.

"Now is as good a time as any for a light show, don't you think, Bob?" Hunter quipped, raising an eyebrow at her.

She nodded and reached into her boot for the small disk and crouched low to the ground.

"Ready, men?" She looked up briefly at Hunter and Ward, who acknowledged her with a slight tilt of the head. "On three ... two ... one..."

She rolled the Flash Bomb across the floor in the direction of the hallway where the soldiers stood. The trio quickly faced in the opposite direction, shielding their eyes from the sudden pulse of high-intensity light that was emitted from the device. They moved swiftly from behind the wall to take advantage of the men's temporary blindness and disorientation, and were able to dispatch them with minimal resistance.

"That light gizmo thingy is bloody brilliant." Hunter commented wryly as they stepped over the crumpled bodies and headed for the stairway. "Let's move."

As the door to the stairway came into view and was only a few more feet away, Ward dared to feel hope surge within him.

_We're actually going to make it. Skye's going to be okay. She's – _

His thoughts were interrupted by two shots ringing out in quick succession. He grunted heavily and dropped to the floor, registering vaguely that he had been hit – once in the back of his left thigh and once in the small of his back, narrowly missing his spine. The kevlar vest he wore offered him protection from the bullet to his torso and absorbed some of the impact of the blast but the wind was knocked out of him. He cursed. The realization dawned on him that one of the six men on the floor was still alive and had fired at them as they were retreating.

"Ward!" Hunter turned to him before taking out the fallen HYDRA agent with a bullet between the eyes.

"I can't ... I can't walk." Ward grimaced in pain as he grasped his upper leg, trying to put pressure on the wound as the blood began to pump thickly through his fingers. "You have to go without me."

He reached with a shaking hand into his vest for the vials of antitoxin. They looked up in unison as the sinister sound of approaching footsteps resonated in the hallways; another HYDRA onslaught was imminent.

"Mate ... we'll carry you," Hunter muttered, his forehead creased with anxiety. He was clearly torn between self-preservation and not wanting to leave a team member behind. Even if the said member was a traitor.

"No, you can't. Not up all those flights of stairs. I'll slow you down too much ... get us all killed," Ward said, shaking his head wearily. The blood loss from his wound was beginning to rob him of lucid thought. He handed Hunter the vials. "Take this and go."

"He's right. We have to go now or we'll all die. Skye included." Bobbi's voice was oddly strained, as she put a hand on Hunter's shoulder. She glanced down at Ward and held his gaze. Perhaps it was his imagination, or perhaps it was a dying man's last wish for absolution, but he no longer saw contempt burning in her intense blue eyes. They were soft with compassion as she spoke. "We'll tell her, Ward... what you did..."

"Go now. Save her." Ward nodded as he spoke quietly, a welcome sense of calm descending on him. "_Keep her safe_."


	13. Chapter 13

She is alone again. Skye shakes off the shackles of slumber with no apprehension this time; she knows instinctively where she is before her surroundings come into focus. Looking around her, she is not surprised to find herself standing under the familiar soft glow of the lights inside his bar.

_This is where I belong._

The sense of calm she feels is a welcome relief, and she clings to the feeling like a child clutching her favourite soft toy. It has been a long time since she's felt this peaceful; the first time since her life was turned upside down in the catacombs of San Juan. Her worries – her uncontrollable powers, the constant fear, her uncertain future – all fall away one by one.

Here she is content; she is finally _home_.

"Skye."

At the sound of his voice, she turns, a small smile already forming on her lips. He pulls her close as he looks down at her and returns her grin. Running her thumb along the stubble on his jawline, she is overcome by a rush of joy from the simple touch. The perfect beauty of the moment offers her a clarity she has been missing for so long – a single moment encapsulating everything she has ever wanted – safety, acceptance, a sense of belonging... love. She presses her face against his chest to drown in the intoxicating smell of him.

And then –

A pungent metallic smell burns sharply in her nostrils. Bewildered, she looks down to see blood – bright red angry blood – soaking through the fabric of his trousers. It drips down his leg in a steady stream to pool on the floor between them. Her stomach turns and her smile slides abruptly off her face, her features shifting into a mask of confusion and horror. The shock renders her speechless; she searches his dark eyes frantically for an explanation.

"You don't belong here, Skye," he says softly, shaking his head wistfully at her expression. "You can't stay. I'm sorry."

"What ... what do you mean?" she stammers, pleading with him with her eyes. She doesn't understand; She doesn't _want_ to understand. "We can stay here together... The world outside doesn't exist. Pretend with me that it doesn't exist..."

He sighs heavily before framing her face in his large hands and draws her close to capture her mouth in a fervent kiss. Her tears flow freely over his fingers as he murmurs words of regret and longing against her lips and down the silky hollow of her throat. With an effort, he pulls away and presses his forehead against hers.

"Let me stay here," she chokes, powerless to hold back another flood of tears as he solemnly wipes away the wetness spilling onto her cheeks. "Please."

"You need to go back." There is a firmness in his voice that contradicts the tenderness reflecting from the dark pools of his eyes. They shine softly with unshed tears as he gazes down at her. Releasing her gently, he takes a few steps backwards.

"No... Ward, please ..."

She tries to close the gap that he has made between them but she's being pulled back by a force beyond her control, as though she's being gripped by dozens of invisible hands at once. Moaning in frustration, she lets a pulse of energy radiate out from her fingertips and the floor and walls around them start to tremble, sending glasses and bottles toppling to the floor.

He is oblivious to the chaos unfolding around him; his gaze is fixed firmly on her face as he continues to move away from her.

"Go back, Skye," he repeats to her, over the symphony of tinkling glass shards around them. "Stay safe, rookie."

* * *

><p>Skye eyes snapped open suddenly to stare blankly up at the grey tiles above her. Wrapped in a cocoon of numbness, she simply felt <em>nothing<em>. She found that the emptiness was a welcome solace. She supposed the deluge of tears, when it eventually broke through the layers of apathy, would fill the Cage from floor to ceiling and drown her. If it ever was to happen. For now, she waited. She had no idea what time it was, whether it was night or day. And she found that she no longer cared. Time for her was blurred into a melange of moments that fluctuated from coherence to confusion.

She was never known for her reticence. Television commercials featuring small animals, any number of sappy love ballads, and even the occasional cheesy romance novel, all had the ability to invoke her tears. She recalled the nuns at St Agnes telling her once that her eyes were like leaky faucets that no plumber could ever fix. She had laughed at that, her features transforming into a physical representation of her favourite oxymoron - bitter-sweet. Which was why she thought it strange how now, when her world was knocked off its axis, that her tears dried up. Perhaps grief, in its mysterious way, had become the plumber.

A strangled, half-bitter, half-hysterical cry masquerading as a laugh cut through the silence of the Cage; she noted indifferently that the sound had escaped the confines of her own throat. The isolation was clearly taking its toll on her sanity.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Skye said in a quiet monotone to no one in particular. She turned her head slowly to stare resolutely at the camera mounted in the corner the Cage. She was breaking under the weight of solitude and the ache inside her heart was unbearable.

"I saw him, you know. In the in-between. Limbo, or whatever. We were in his bar together... He said I had to go... I wanted to stay, but I couldn't ... " She was rambling now, her words coming out in a jumble as she twisted her hands in knots.

"Please, someone... please talk me," she whispered into the void of the Cage, her voice echoing back to mock her. "I can't ... I can't ..."

The dam finally burst. She broke down into heaving sobs as she folded herself into a ball on the cot. The tears rolled off her face to soak the pillow and mattress.

She was met with silence – silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity, before a soft beep at the door alerted her to a visitor. Relieved, Skye turned on her side and glanced in its direction through a veil of tears.

It was Coulson. He stepped quickly into the room, his eyes soft with compassion as he moved closer to the cot. He sat on the edge of the mattress and rested his hand on her forehead to gently sweep the bangs out of her eyes. He sighed, unsure of what to say.

"You're going to be okay Skye," he said, finally. "Simmons said you're recovering well. Physically ..."

He paused at the implication of his words. Her body was on the mend, but her mind and her heart... That was a different story altogether.

"Coulson ..." Skye began, struggling to keep her voice steady. "Everything is a blur. I can't figure out what's real and what's not. I feel like I'm going crazy ... Please tell me what happened."

"Well ... What's the last thing you remember?" Coulson asked, his forehead creased with worry. Her increasingly fragile mental state was a cause for concern. He continued to stroke her forehead slowly, hoping that the gesture provided her with some comfort.

"Talking to Ward," she whispered, feeling the itch of tears burning the back of her eyes again. "Telling him a stupid joke, trying to laugh ... and then – nothing. Blackness again."

"You crashed unexpectedly. One minute you were fine, and the next you ..." He paused and shook his head. " You couldn't breathe. You were in bad shape. It was the poison that was still in your system," Coulson explained, not bothering with any of the medical terms Simmons had used on her condition. "I dispatched a team to HYDRA laboratories to find the antitoxin. It was the only way to save you. There wasn't much time."

"And Ward ... you put him on the team," she said slowly, looking him directly in the eyes. It wasn't an accusation; she merely wanted to hear the facts, to try and make some sense of the chaos in her mind. She could hear the hollowness of her own voice, the robotic ring to it as each word fell from her mouth like an automated response.

"Yes," he answered simply, his voice firm. "His skills were of use to the mission. He wanted to go."

She nodded but said nothing.

"You flatlined, Skye," Coulson continued. "We thought we lost you. If they had come back any later, it would've been too late."

"Is everyone okay?" Her voice trembled slightly. She knew his answer before he spoke but she needed to hear it.

"May, Hunter and Bobbi are fine. Minor injuries," Coulson said, watching her reaction carefully. "Ward, though... he was shot twice ..."

"You don't have to say it," she replied quietly, avoiding his gaze. "I know he's dead."

He took her hand gently in his. "They tried to help him. But there was nothing they could do. You have to believe that, Skye. He surprised us all. He did the honourable thing so that the team could get back here to save you. He was ..." His voice trailed off, his sentence unfinished.

_Past tense_, Skye noted dully. Ward existed now in the past tense. In the yesterdays, in memories, in dreams. She wondered vaguely if she was the only one in the world who would mourn him.

_Hoping for something and losing it hurts more than never hoping for anything._

"Skye ... you're going to be okay." Coulson folded her up in his arms as another tsunami of grief hit the shores of her consciousness, the aftermath of which left her body wracked with heaving sobs.

Coulson said nothing more as he held the young woman in his arms, rocking her gently as she wept.

* * *

><p>Time passed. There were simply no more tears left. She had clung to her pillow and rocked endlessly for days, letting the alternating waves of guilt and grief crash over her. She dreamed about him every night and woke every morning with the same dull ache in her heart and a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. All the while, a steady mantra played over and over in her head.<p>

_He's gone because of me... He'd still be alive if I didn't go to him... _

Simmons checked on her twice daily, offering her sympathetic yet ultimately empty words in an effort to comfort her. Coulson and May usually visited once a day, never failing to berate her gently for the meals she barely touched. Occasionally she'd get a visit from Fitz or Hunter, who would stand awkwardly near the door and offer the usual platitudes before mumbling an excuse and making a hasty exit. No one dared to bring up Ward, which was just as well. She didn't want to talk about him.

One morning she looked up to see an unexpected guest. Bobbi was standing in the corner of the Cage; her head was slightly tilted to the side, her icy blue eyes fixed on her. Her presence was a surprise, and not entirely a pleasant one. They weren't friends; team mates, yes – but their interactions never progressed from mutual respect to friendship, even before the madness of San Juan. And as far as she was aware, Bobbi hadn't made any visits to the Cage during her recovery. Attempting to hide her unease, Skye sat up on the cot and looked at her expectantly.

"You're not eating properly," Bobbi said matter-of-factly, casting her cool gaze over the younger woman.

Skye was confused. _Why would she care?_

"I guess I don't have much of an appetite." Skye shrugged. She felt uncomfortable under the tall woman's scrutiny. Skye waited for her to say something else but she continued to lean against the wall quietly, arms folded across her chest. Her expression was unreadable. The silence stretched on until Skye couldn't take it anymore.

"Er ... is there a reason you're here?" Skye asked finally. She didn't see the point of beating around the bush any longer.

Bobbi observed her silently for a few more moments before walking towards her decisively. Skye suppressed the urge to physically recoil from her advance – the sight of the fierce blond agent striding towards her was an intimidating one, and the determined look on Bobbi's face wasn't exactly giving her a warm and fuzzy feeling. For a split-second Skye was convinced that Bobbi was closing the gap between them to slap her. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, and she barely managed to force the vibrations into the mattress, feeling it undulate beneath her.

_I won't hurt her again. Even if she wants to kick my butt._

The altercation she was sure was about to unfold did not happen – much to Skye's relief. The cot stilled its erratic dance as Bobbi hovered around the end of it. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to the area of the mattress near Skye's feet when it stood completely still again.

"Sure," Skye replied hesitantly, crossing her legs in front of her to make room for Bobbi to sit on the edge of the cot.

"Listen, Skye," Bobbi began, her gaze now fixed on the grey tiles of the Cage. "You should know that I wasn't the biggest fan of Ward. I didn't trust him," – she turned back to look Skye in the eyes as the smaller woman sucked in a ragged breath – "but he did all right, in the end. He proved himself."

Skye nodded as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She forced herself not to succumb to another flood of tears that threatened to break through.

_Is she trying to make me feel better?_

"Is that, er ... all you wanted to say?" Skye said, after another few minutes of silence. This whole exchange was surreal, and she wondered if she was experiencing some unexpected hallucinatory side effects of the antitoxin.

"No," Bobbi said, her features fixed into a grim expression. She held Skye's gaze unflinchingly. "The others are too close to you, too worried of what you'd think of them to tell you the brutal truth. So I figured you might as well hear it from me."

Bobbi paused momentarily as she assessed Skye's reaction. Skye's face took on a guarded look as she wrapped her arms around her knees, subconsciously forming a barrier between herself and Bobbi. Skye drew in a deep breath and waited for her to continue.

"These powers you have? It's a gift. Whether you want to accept it as one or not." She stopped a moment and noted Skye's wide-eyed look of surprise. Bobbi pressed on determinedly. "You're wasting it. You could learn to channel your abilities and contribute to the team instead of spending every ounce of energy fighting it. You could help people, if you choose to."

"Help people? _Help_ people?" Skye echoed her words, her voice escalating with incredulity. "Tell me exactly how my powers can _help_ people. They cause nothing but destruction. I make everything – _everything_ – around me break. I ... _I almost killed_ _you_!"

Bobbi raised an eyebrow at her outburst. Her tone was calm when she continued. "Yes. You almost did. And that never would've happened, if you had learned to control it from the very beginning. But instead, you pushed everyone away who wanted to help you. And then you ran." _Like a coward,_ she was itching to add but wisely refrained.

Skye gasped as Bobbi's harsh words sunk in.

"And what about Ward?" Bobbi was not finished. She attempted to keep the frustration from showing in her tone. "He was killed getting the antitoxin for you. Do you think he'd be happy knowing his sacrifice was for nothing, that you'd just be curling up in a ball in the Cage day after day feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Why ... why are you doing this?" Skye muttered, the guilt threatening to consume her again. A sliver of irritation cut through the haze of dull pain that she had grown accustomed to since learning of Ward's fate. Her eyes narrowed and she jutted her chin out defiantly. "Why are you being so cruel?"

"You could learn to control your powers, if you wanted to. Embrace them," Bobbi said mildly, deliberately ignoring her accusation. "Use them to avenge Ward, if nothing else. Unleash your _destruction, _as you call it, on HYDRA. Help us take them down once and for all."

Bobbi stood up from the end of the cot and walked to the door, her long blond curls bouncing against her back. She turned to look at Skye one last time before leaving.

"Think about what I said, Skye. You can be an asset ... or a liability - the choice is yours."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Ward's fate will be addressed in greater detail in the next chapter. Bear with me, dear reader! ;)


	14. Chapter 14

The tall, broad-shouldered man lay motionless on a cot in the infirmary. His stillness was in stark contrast to the activity in the room – mechanical whirring and buzzing of medical equipment, the low rumble of subdued voices, the tapping of footsteps on the hard linoleum floor, soft clinking of glass beakers and tubes. Various parts of the patient's body was covered in sterile white bandages. The only indications of life were the sporadic movements beneath his eyelids and the steady rhythmic beeping from the heart rate monitor to which he was attached.

Bright fluorescent lights highlighted the waxen pallor of his skin, which juxtaposed markedly with his thick black hair and dark stubble on his cheeks. His breathing was shallow and even, and the serene look that had settled on his face rendered an almost childlike quality to his otherwise sharp masculine features of angular cheekbones, a strong patrician nose and a square jawline. Oblivious to the bustle around him, he lay quietly in repose.

Nearby, two men gazed down at the injured man. One pair of pale blue eyes shifted momentarily from the patient to the doctor standing next to the cot, the glacial stare unwavering in its intensity. The voice that accompanied the steely look was even, its tone perfunctory and the enunciation of his words, despite the clipped accent, was crisp. "I take it his wounds are healing satisfactorily?"

The harried-looking doctor nodded hastily and cleared his throat before speaking, visibly intimidated by the presence of the enigmatic leader. He chose his words carefully. "We removed the bullet fragments from his upper thigh and lower back. He has lost a substantial amount of blood, however, and he'll be kept under sedation for a while longer while his body recovers from the surgery."

The taller man frowned at the words, and the doctor visibly tensed, bracing himself for a reprimand.

"I want to be notified as soon as he regains consciousness," the man said curtly to the doctor, indicating his unexpected approval of the reply he received. The tension in the doctor's shoulders lessened marginally in response.

"Yes, sir." The physician's reply was immediate, representative of the power the leader possessed in evoking unquestioning obedience – and fear – from his minions.

The Baron nodded slightly and turned his attention to the patient once more. "There is much work to be done. And I need him awake in order to begin."

* * *

><p><em>Skye, you have to go back. Stay safe ...<em>

The sound of his own words echoed in the abyss as the nothingness enveloped him. The sight of her tear-streaked face was already dimming as he stepped backwards away from her. Thankful that his last image would be of her, he was calm, ready to embrace his fate knowing that she was safe. He waited without fear for death to claim him.

He was never a religious man; he didn't believe in an afterlife, be it heaven or hell. You had one shot at existence and when it ended, that was it. There was life and there was death. And when life was extinguished, everything else would come to an end as well – the pain, the guilt, the remorse, the regret. That much was for certain, and he both expected and welcomed the simple finality of it all.

What he didn't expect was the harsh white light to pierce his consciousness, pull him from the brink and dump him unceremoniously back into the land of the living. Ward winced as his nerve endings registered the dull ache in his wounds. He hurt all over. An incessant throbbing in his temples only served to compound the pain in his thigh and lower back, and he reached a hand to touch the side of his head. Or at least, he_ tried_ to.

He soon discovered that his discomfort was the least of his worries.

"What the hell?" Ward mumbled wearily, still groggy from the latent effects of the sedation in his system. He was definitely not expecting to wake up tethered to a hospital gurney, unable to move his limbs. Managing to turn his head to the side, he spotted a man in a white lab coat hovering around the side of the cot. "Where am I?" Ward growled at him.

He was met with silence. But Ward already knew where he was. Or specifically, who had him. If it wasn't SHIELD – which it clearly was not – there was only one other possibility. _Hail HYDRA, _he thought derisively, suppressing a shudder.

"Hey, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf or something?" Ward hissed at the man, hoping to provoke him into stepping closer to the cot and within reach of his shackled hands. He could twist and snap the man's wrist in the blink of an eye and then demand to be released – he just had to be close enough ...

As though sensing Ward's intentions, the doctor backed away from him and walked briskly out of the room.

"Goddammit," Ward muttered, his hands clenched into fists as he attempted to move his restrained arms to no avail.

It was a futile struggle; the thick steel cuffs that had his wrists and ankles bound to the hospital bed were snug and unrelenting against his skin. There was no way he would be able to free himself of them like he did the flimsy ones he escaped from while in transit under FBI custody to Christian. No, it was going to take more than a dislocated thumb to extricate himself of these particular restraints. He desperately ran through the vaults of his subconscious, searched through the catalogues of information that he had spent years filing away as a specialist for anything that would help him escape. His addled mind came up with nothing. With his frustration mounting, he felt all the fight in him slowly evaporating.

Through his agitation, there was one thing that kept him sane – the image of Skye. His consciousness was ablaze with thoughts of her – soft brown eyes shining with compassion, soft lips curved into a ready smile ... It saved him from succumbing to the dark pits of despair at his dire circumstances. She was alive and that was all that mattered. His life was insignificant in comparison. Resigned to his fate, he braced himself for whatever HYDRA had in store for him.

The _beep beep beep_ of a code being entered drew Ward's attention to the door and he snapped his head abruptly in its direction. His eyes widened as he set eyes on his visitor.

_There is a hell after all. The devil exists and his name is Baron Wolfgang von Strucker._

"Agent Grant Douglas Ward. May I say it is a pleasure to finally meet you," Stucker said, smiling knowingly as he looked down at the man on the bed. The smile did not reach his eyes, which held a decidedly predatory glint. Ward suddenly thought of a cat playing idly with an injured mouse in its paws.

"The pleasure is all yours," Ward mumbled, glaring at the man standing before him.

"I appreciate your candour," Strucker said, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Forgive me for the precautions," he continued, gesturing to his restraints. "But I felt they were necessary, given your specialist skills. And you'll be pleased to know that we took the liberty of ridding you of the bracelet and tracking device from your thigh. I can't have SHIELD getting wind of your survival and discovering your whereabouts. Not until I'm ready for them."

Ward said nothing. He turned his head to the side, breaking eye contact with the Baron.

"So ... Agent Ward. I had heard good things about you," Strucker continued, seemingly unaffected by Ward's attempt at ignoring him. "Your supervising officer John Garrett had nothing but glowing praise for you. A fine soldier in battle. Quite the effective double agent during your time infiltrating SHIELD. Loyal to the end. Whitehall, on the other hand – he was a little more reserved in his judgement of you. Hadn't made his mind up yet, before his demise."

_I was loyal to Garrett, not HYDRA._

Ward chose not to voice his thought; he simply refused to acknowledge the formidable looking man hovering over him. He wondered how much longer he could remain silent, testing the Baron's limits before his patience ran out. The head of HYDRA, for the time being at least, seemed undeterred by Ward's refusal to speak.

"I want you to know that I was impressed with the message you left for me with one of my men in regards to the girl. Some would say it was foolish but I found it intriguing. You do not fear me. Perhaps the insolence of it should've angered me but your determination actually piqued my interest. I don't come across many men who dare to taunt me in such a brazen manner."

"What do you want?" Ward said finally, through clenched teeth.

"Come now – let's not bother with games, shall we?" The Baron spoke softly. "I would've thought that the reason was obvious. Why would I bother saving your life, committing time and resources to restoring you to health? You are an asset, Agent Ward. One I wish to acquire."

"I'm not an agent anymore," Ward said with conviction. "Haven't been for some time now. I tried that once. Didn't do me much good. Last thing I want right now is to be an agent for HYDRA again," he spat out, eyeing the man before him with contempt. "So you're wasting your time. I have no interest in working for HYDRA. Never again." Ward was adamant. He had to resist this. He would not betray Skye again.

"I have men who are skilled in the art of persuasion," Strucker said calmly, his benign words causing Ward to raise an eyebrow. He saw through the euphemism for what it really was. Ward's eyes shone with rebellion. Torture. No matter – he was trained to withstand it. He had spent his entire life compartmentalizing pain, carefully storing it away in his subconscious so that it would not consume him; he could handle pain.

"But I don't want to resort to breaking you – not physically anyway," Strucker continued, an undercurrent of menace painting his words. "I need you strong. You are a exemplary specimen of a soldier – I'd like you to stay that way. So ... we will keep you in prime physical condition. Your mind, your _will_, however – that is another story."

"You can save your breath," Ward repeated. "I will never work for you."

"Agent Ward. It is such a pity we can't convince you to join our cause willingly," Strucker said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "But I must say I did anticipate this to be your response."

"Why bother with the speech then?" Ward snarled, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Just get on with it. What's it to be? Torture? Brainwashing? I'm familiar with HYDRA's tactics of _persuasion_."

"I admire your resistance. You are strong. Mentally and physically." Strucker said, amused at the banter in which he clearly had the upper hand. He leaned close to Ward, his face mere inches away from the former SHIELD agent's. "But you will break. Even the strongest of wills succumbs eventually. And when you do, I have plans for you. Grand plans."

"You're delusional," Ward said, almost wistfully. "Just like John turned out to be."

"On the contrary. I have very clear goals and motivations." Strucker continued to deliver his verbal manifesto to the hapless man strapped to the cot. "You will help me strengthen my army. You will fight by my side and bring down my enemies one by one. Starting with Coulson and SHIELD."

"You talk a lot, you know that?" Ward said, genuinely surprised. He had expected the HYDRA leader to be a man of few words. It was quite the opposite. The Baron reminded him of Garrett and his penchant for long-winded, rambling speeches. God, how the man loved the sound of his own voice. Maybe it was a symptom of megalomania. Or just plain insanity.

"I know my predecessor, Whitehall, was rather fond of the Faustus method of recruitment," Strucker said, oblivious to the Ward's disdain. "I do not share his faith in the technique. Frankly, I have neither the patience nor inclination for such an archaic approach of convincing reluctant recruits to join our cause. Especially a lengthy 'mind-control' strategy that has proven to be flawed on more than one occasion. I am a man of science, and such pseudo-scientific psychological indoctrination tactics do not appeal to my proclivities. I prefer a more direct, pragmatic approach. One that is guaranteed to be most effective. "

He motioned to a foot soldier standing by the door. He promptly left and returned with two scientists behind him who carefully pushed a metal trolley into the room. A long menacing-looking weapon with a golden handle and sharp blade rested on a stand in the middle of the tray. Embedded in the blade was a crystal that cast out an eerie blue light on the white walls around them. It possessed an ethereal quality that gave it an illusion of floating inches above the trolley as opposed to merely resting on it. Ward felt himself drawn to the hypnotic pulsating radiance of the stone, unable to tear his gaze away.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Strucker said, noticing Ward's reaction. "A most priceless artifact. I had it brought over from our research facility in Sokovia, in anticipation of our interaction."

"I've had experience with alien weaponry," Ward said, attempting to keep his voice from trembling. "That ... _thing_ is no different. Can't be any worse than what the Berserker staff did to me."

"You compare this to the Berserker staff?" Strucker laughed, the chilling sound reverberating off the walls. "The Berserker staff was the weapon of the minions, of the drones. _This_," – he motioned to the spear – "this is an instrument fit for a god. Designed to be wielded only by one in a position of power. It responds to power and gives power in return."

Ward pursed his lips and remained silent. He tore his gaze away from the scepter and turned his attention to the ceiling.

"This, Agent Ward, is the future. We are only beginning to unlock its potential; we have but scratched the surface of its capabilities." Strucker's tone took on one of awe as he continued to gaze at the scepter. "Its uses have been diverse. One such use is that it does all the convincing that is needed. Compliance is guaranteed, without need for all the tedious 'Take a deep breath. Calm your mind' repetition."

He picked up the scepter reverently, admiring the weight of it in his gloved hands. "Now is the age of miracles. The girl – Daisy, Skye – she is one such miracle. She is special, but by no means unique. I wish to acquire her for my collection. She means something to you too, yes?" Strucker asked, a smile broadening on his face. "I was most disappointed when she evaded capture. But relieved that she survived the effects of the dart – thanks to you. I'm sure – with your help – she'll be mine soon enough. Then you'll both fight together. For me."

Ward struggled fruitlessly against his steel restraints at the mention of Skye's name. He was livid, anger burning high on his cheeks. "She will never be yours ..."

"I grow tired of your defiance," Strucker said quietly, stepping closer to Ward with the scepter raised over him. Ward grunted in frustration as he recoiled from its proximity, furious at his inability to avoid contact with the weapon. The Baron placed the tip of the blade against Ward's chest, right above his heart. A grim smile played on his lips before he spoke again. "Time to surrender, Agent Ward."

A wisp of light travelled from point of contact, briefly illuminating Ward's skin a dusky blue. He managed a strangled cry before the tendrils snaked its mottled veins up his neck and a blankness settled into his eyes, transforming them from pools of jet black into a bright fluorescent shade of azure. He turned his blue-tinged vacant stare slowly towards the Baron; his capitulation was swift and merciless.

"You will bring the girl to me," Strucker said, his voice dropping several degrees cooler. "Am I clear, Agent Ward?"

There was a fraction of a second of hesitation before the last of Ward's willpower surrendered to the dominance of the staff. He spoke, his tone mechanical, rigid and totally devoid of emotion.

"Yes, sir."


End file.
